


Inappropriate

by the_original_n_chan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Awkward Boners, Eren Doesn't Care Though, First Time, Levi Should Not Be Allowed to Talk Dirty, M/M, Possible Abuse of Authority
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1893555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_original_n_chan/pseuds/the_original_n_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren is trying desperately to figure out what he wants. Levi knows all too well what <i>he</i> wants, and that he probably shouldn't pursue it. (Make that definitely.) But temptation is a bitch, Levi is far from a saint, and Eren is way too hard to resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the beginning of the Riren headcanon that "[Up against the Wall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1762725)" takes place in. It diverges from actual canon at about chapter 54 of the manga; instead of staying in that little cottage/guard post, they're in a safe house in Trost. I wrote this before Captain Throat-Slasher and the Great Name Revelation, so Levi's back story doesn't take any of that into account.
> 
> If you dislike power differentials and adult/teen smut, you should avoid this fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: All rights reserved to the original creators. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

With a sigh, Eren stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the changing room floor. No sense folding it and stowing it neatly on one of the shelves; it needed washing anyway. His pants, socks, and underwear quickly followed, and, wrapping a towel around his waist, he padded toward the bathing room, the tile floor cool under his feet.

Just as he opened the door, he caught the sound of a spitting hiss, rather like an angry cat, and he was startled to find Levi, also in no more than a towel, standing near the showers and glaring at the floor. His heart beat faster—surprise, even though he’d already known that someone else was there from the other set of clothes that had been left (properly folded) in the changing room, nervousness, the shiver of awe that he still felt in the presence of this man. Humanity’s Strongest, powerful, fearless, ruthless, unexpectedly human and yet all the more admirable for that. Suddenly he didn’t know what to do with himself. Should he go in? Should he wait until later? Was it all right to share the showers with his commanding officer?

Levi obviously noted his appearance but didn’t glance toward him, his attention focused on the object of his displeasure. “Some lazy fuck left a giant clot of _hair_ in the drain,” he growled. “When I find them, I’m going to have them _shaved_.”

Eren winced, knowing from experience just how strongly Levi felt about messes, and even _he_ thought that was pretty gross. Then Levi started to bend down, and Eren jumped, hurrying forward. “Oh, Captain, here, let me—”

Levi’s sharp look brought him up short. “Do you think I can’t clean hair out of a drain?” Levi asked, his voice level and inflectionless as usual, but his stance and his narrowed gaze suggested that he might find the wrong answer extremely insulting.

Flushing, Eren straightened up quickly, soldier’s habit, and barely managed to stop himself from saluting, realizing at the last instant just how ridiculous that would look in a towel. “No, sir!” With a dismissive grunt, Levi turned away and went down on one knee, began picking the clumped strands out of the grate, a grimace of extreme distaste twisting his face.

Eren found himself staring at his superior—he didn’t know why, other than that the distraction gave him the opportunity. He’d never seen Levi unclothed before; even without the uniform or the maneuver gear, unarmed and off-duty, the force of the man was undiminished. His body was all hard muscle, his skin crossed with scars—old ones, mostly, some ragged and some knife straight, here and there overlaid with minor, nearly healed cuts and fading bruises from his last mission. There was a taut, ready strength to him, as if at any moment he could spring up to fight, to kill, to do whatever needed to be done, and Eren’s thoughts flashed back to Armin’s old book: a picture of a strange forest, large-leaved trees choked by tangles of vines, and in the shadows, barely visible, a black beast. _Panther._ Levi gave that same impression of coiled power and extraordinary grace, and admiration surged in Eren again, a sudden, swelling pressure inside his chest, a flutter in the pit of his stomach. The curve of Levi’s back as he crouched, the slope of his shoulders, the bunched muscles in his calves, in his thigh where the towel had rucked up, and as Levi rose and spun away, stalking across the room to fling the gathered hairs into the wastebasket, shaking his hand vehemently to get them all off, Eren suddenly became aware of a different swelling pressure. One that was located much lower down. With a gasp, he whirled, turning his back to Levi. Clenching his hands in his towel and pressing down over his dick, he desperately willed his erection to fade.

“Disgusting,” Levi muttered behind him. “ _Vile_.” There was silence for a moment. Then: “Oi. _Eren_.” Quaking, Eren dared a peek back over his shoulder. Levi’s expression had returned to its usual deadpan frown, though there was a faint twitch to his eyebrow as he looked at Eren. “Did you just get a hard-on watching me clean the drain?”

“N-N-No!” Eren jerked back around in a panic, blushing furiously and helplessly. How was he going to shower around Levi like this? But he couldn’t just run away—that was basically admitting guilt. _Go down, go down, go down_ , he willed his embarrassing member, and when it stubbornly refused to obey, he tried to distract himself, to think about something else—about Titans. About horrible, hideous, repulsive, they-all-have-to-die Titans. About Levi killing Titans. _Argh—no!_

A catch of breath, soft but sharp, surprised him. Startled, he looked back again in spite of himself, and—

Levi was laughing. One arm wrapped across his stomach, the heel of his other hand digging into his forehead, fingers knotted in his hair—his eyes closed, his shoulders shifting in a near-silent chuckle. His mouth curving into a faint smile, strange and unexpected sight. And yet—

That was the moment Eren’s heart fell off the wall. Or at least, that was what it felt like to him. A long fall without maneuver gear, a plummet into darkness and the unknown, not knowing where or how the end would come. But the end didn’t matter, he realized.

Not if he could see Levi smile like that again. 

Levi cleared his throat and regained his impassivity, although a momentary glint flickered in his eyes, betraying some lingering amusement. “Relax,” he said drily. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” Shedding his towel with a perfect lack of concern for Eren’s mortification, he walked back over to the bank of showers. 

Gulping, Eren dropped his towel and sidled over to a shower as well, trying to keep his back to Levi the whole time. Fortunately the safe house showers, while not freezing cold, were far enough from warm that his little problem was soon chilled into submission. He concentrated on giving himself a good scrubbing—a really good one, out of fear that Levi might notice his work and find it lacking. Probably a senseless fear, but still. And he _didn’t_ watch his captain, not really, just stole a glance or two, or four, not even sure why he was looking and daring further humiliation, except that his head was swimming with confusion. And questions— _why? what is this?_ —this, this feeling that he couldn’t put into words. He could only poke at it, groping for understanding each time he caught a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of his eye. The play of triceps and shoulder muscles as Levi lifted one arm above his head to lather beneath it. The lithe flexibility as he stood on one leg, twisting around to scrub the sole of his other foot. And the tight, sleek curves of his—no, that probably did _not_ hold any answers he wanted. Eren forced himself to stop stealing peeks then, afraid of another embarrassing physical reaction, even though he was still no closer to figuring anything out.

He did notice that Levi had brought his own soap, though. He wondered if it was special somehow, or if Levi just couldn’t bear the thought of communal soap.

Surprisingly, Levi finished first, maybe because Eren had alternately been distracted and taking extra pains with his washing. Turning off his shower and shaking the water from his hair, Levi walked—still naked—over to the soaking tub and stirred up the fire beneath it that kept the water hot. Then he leaned on the rim of the tub and inspected the whole thing minutely, but apparently no one had left it befouled, because with a _hmph_ of grudging acceptance Levi swung his legs over the side and settled into the water.

Trying not to hyperventilate, to look as blasé as Levi did, Eren finished his own shower and walked— _walked_ , did not skulk or creep or scuttle—over to the tub. He couldn’t help the heat that leaped into his face, though, when Levi scrutinized him from head to toe with the same judgmental expression that he’d used on the tub, but apparently Eren’s cleanliness passed muster. Eren got into the water—maybe a little too quickly, judging by the small waves he caused—and sank onto the seat across from Levi, slouching as low as he could while still being able to breathe. 

As the lapping of the water faded, silence crept in. It wasn’t uncomfortable necessarily; Levi, quiet and still, was an oddly calming presence, and between that and the blissful, simmering heat of the bath, Eren found himself relaxing, tension by tension, knot by knot. Yet there was still that persistent muddle in his head, that almost wistful... _yearning_ , he thought, but for what? All he knew was that something in the silence seemed to draw it out. He felt himself growing intensely aware of the distance between himself and Levi, not just the length of the large tub but age, rank, experience, skill—so many gaps, all so huge. Hesitantly, Eren fumbled after something to put into that silence, that space. Even if it was just a pebble, dropped into that chasm.

“Um, Captain?” Levi returned a low _hnn_ of acknowledgment. “This may be dumb, or too personal or something, but I was wondering...is ‘Levi’ your first name or your last name?”

“It’s my only name.” With a derisive snort, Levi added, “Drives those pissant bureaucrats crazy. They can never figure out what line to enter it on in their forms.”

“Oh.” It was strange—the only other person Eren had ever known with just one name was Ymir, and she’d turned out to be an outsider from beyond the walls. As if reading his confusion in that single syllable, Levi sighed, leaning his head back on the tub’s rim.

“I don’t remember having a family or anything like that,” Levi said, gazing up toward the shadowed ceiling. “I guess you could say the underground made me.” Levi’s words reminded Eren of the time Petra had told him about Levi’s past; he’d already figured that Levi must have lived a rough, probably brutal life as a criminal, but it had never occurred to him just how difficult, even painful that life might have been. The thought sent a pang through him, but he didn’t know quite what to say. He could barely even imagine what it must have been like, and somehow he didn’t think Levi would appreciate his well-meaning but ultimately clueless sympathy. Instead he dragged himself back to the original topic.

“You...you could just pick a name, couldn’t you?”

“What for?” Levi gave him a half-lidded but cutting look, then closed his eyes. “You mean, like just pick something out of a hat? Something completely random and meaningless? What a waste of time.” His shoulders shifted against the wall of the tub, a brief, disgruntled motion. “Look, kid, people carry extra names around to show their allegiances. Family, mostly. History, places, old occupations, whatever. None of that stuff matters to me. It’s all completely irrelevant. Besides, everybody knows who I am and what I’m part of. It’s not like I need to _advertise_ it.”

“Y-Yeah.” Eren huddled in on himself, regretting the whole conversation. Honestly, why did he have to be such a dumbass? But Levi apparently wasn’t done putting him in his place.

“If I _were_ ever going to take a second name—which I don’t plan to—I’d want it to be a name that meant something, that honored something that actually matters. And what I’d want to—” Levi stopped short, hesitated for a surprisingly long moment, and then continued, a peculiar, almost reflective softness in his voice, “It would be impossible. It’d be unbelievably presumptuous, for one thing, to try to lay any claim to that, when I....” He trailed off there, and hard to read though he was, Eren thought he looked oddly bitter and pained. “And what name would I even pick?” he murmured instead, barely audible, as if speaking to himself. “There are far too many.”

_Too many_. And in Eren’s mind, the unfinished sentence completed itself: _When I was the one who led them to their deaths_. Petra. Oluo. Erd and Gunther. So many more over the years, people that he didn’t even know but that Levi all too obviously remembered. And Eren _hurt_ , so sharply, so fiercely—with his own grief over Levi’s squad, still too fresh and raw, and now with Levi’s as well. He just wanted...he didn’t know what, but.... 

Glancing up, Eren looked at his captain, freed for the moment to do so by Levi’s still-closed eyes, and his heart leaped, almost choking him. The sight of Levi’s head thrown back, the long line of his arched neck, his startlingly delicate throat, the flush of the bath’s heat coloring his face, the tense set of his mouth—and he was torn between wanting to cross the space between them, to reach out, to touch, to...to...put his arms around Levi ( _...what?_ ), touch lips to the sharply sculpted corner of that jaw, bite the slant where neck met shoulder ( _what is this, what am I even_...), rest his head against the other’s hard-muscled, perfect chest...torn between all of that inexplicable _something_ and the growing, increasingly painful realization that he had nothing at all to give this man. Not yet. Nothing but the thin hope of his Titan form’s power and the questions that were still to be answered. In Shiganshina, someday, at a cost that he was just beginning to grasp.

“So you fight in their names instead,” he murmured at last, holding out what little he could offer. He couldn’t...he couldn’t even think about the other thing. His mind shut down on it, and he just prayed his body would do the same before he embarrassed himself again.

Levi’s eyes snapped open, and he glared at Eren, though with nothing more than his usual disdain. “I fight because this is a shitty world, and I refuse to accept that.” He stood up, and Eren hastily averted his gaze.

“Sorry—I’ve been disturbing you. I should be the one to leave.”

“Tch. I just don’t like getting all pruney. Stay here if you want.” Levi vaulted brusquely out of the tub. And either he slipped on the water that had spilled when Eren got in or his injured ankle gave way when his foot hit the floor, but he stumbled slightly, his leg buckling underneath him. Startled, Eren lunged for him, trying to catch him before he might fall.

“ _Captain!_ ”

Eren’s foot skidded out from under him; he fell against the side of the tub, hooking one arm over it barely in time to keep from going under. A flood of water gushed out over the side. Eren flailed for a moment, then just clung to the rim, gasping. Disoriented, he blinked, then blinked again, and realized that his eyes were somewhere just south of Levi’s waist. He jerked his gaze up, way, way up, flushing hotly yet again. He focused on Levi’s face instead, mortally embarrassed but somehow unable to look away as Levi gazed down at him with that cool, remote expression. Not anger at least, and that was something positive; maybe a hint of surprise, and, and—what?

Levi reached out and rested his hand on top of Eren’s head, the touch surprisingly light, almost gentle. It startled Eren; he stammered out, “C-Captain?” And for a moment, he wondered if Levi was going to say something that might unravel all this confusion, this strange aching, because he was absolutely sure that Levi knew so many things that he didn’t—

Then, with a grimace of annoyance, Levi shoved his head down under the water.

As Eren reemerged, snorting and choking, he heard through the sounds of his own splashing Levi’s curt voice as it retreated. “Don’t jack off in the tub. Other people need to use that water.”

His face burning all the way to the ears with more than the bath water’s heat, Eren considered sinking under the surface again. And maybe just staying there forever.

 

 

“I’m too fucking old for this shit,” Levi muttered. Chin resting on his crossed arms, he glowered at the tea cup sitting on the table in front of him. Not the cup’s fault, but it was _there_ , and the subject of his irritation wasn’t.

“Hmm?” Hange didn’t look up, instead continuing to scrawl in a small black notebook. “And which shit was that exactly?”

“Shitty mouth-breathing brats who’ve barely stopped crapping their diapers.” But who were old enough to have discovered their dicks and what they were good for, apparently.

“He’ll be stunning in a few years,” Hange murmured serenely.

“In a few years we could all be rotting balls of Titan puke,” Levi retorted. He narrowed his eyes at Hange, wondering just how much of that comment had been genuine sentiment and how much was messing with him. Over ninety percent the latter, he was pretty sure. Hange was not known for ogling human beings. “You only even notice him because he’s a Titan some of the time.”

“Well, you have to admit that he’s pretty attractive even as a Titan. Going by human standards of attractiveness, of course.”

“I am admitting to no such thing.” Eren in his other form was perhaps marginally less gross than your average Titan, but that was absolutely as far as Levi was going to go. “Those words came out of your mouth, not mine.”

“Titans don’t seem to notice each other all that much, so would they even have their own standards of beauty? Hmm, probably not, but still....” Frowning thoughtfully, Hange made a quick note in the book, then focused back on Levi with a sudden wide-eyed eagerness that made him want to twitch. “Oh but anyway—you see, that’s why it’s so _perfect_ between the two of you! ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier and the World’s Most Handsome Titan!’ The story practically writes itself.” Hange gazed at him with fake-innocent earnestness, and then cracked almost at once at the look on his face, breaking up into cascading whoops of laughter.

“Shit-for-brains maniac,” Levi growled. He’d throw his cup at the lunatic, but they didn’t have enough cups in this crappy safe house. And he’d just have to clean up the mess anyway. Rising, he stalked off toward his room with what dignity he had left, taking the remains of his tea with him and leaving Hange’s gleeful giggling to fade away in his wake.

And how had that fucking mad scientist even _known_ who he was talking about, let alone been able to dance around the reason why he was bothered? Levi blew out his breath in a huff of pure frustration.

Eren fucking Yeager was a hot mess, and that was even without taking into account his ability to transform into fifteen meters of snarling, frothing, steaming rage-beast. The kid’s issues had issues—whole extended families of issues. And not only was he at the stupid age, with his hard-headed, single-minded intensity he was almost guaranteed to be at least twice as stupid as your average hormonally addled teenager. 

And there he’d been, staring up all dewy-eyed and open-mouthed and confused out of what few wits he had after trying to make some kind of heroic rescue attempt and nearly face-planting into Levi’s crotch. It was _ridiculous_.

_Embarrassingly_ ridiculous.

Also, in hindsight, _hysterically_ ridiculous.

It was a good thing he hadn’t actually laughed at the kid a second time. Bad enough he’d done it once. Laughing at kids’ boners was beneath him; it was a thing, it was going to happen, it happened to pretty much everyone, you gave them some shit for it if that seemed to be necessary or else ignored the whole situation completely, and in either case you moved on.

But the actual situation had just been....

Fuck, he was going to start laughing again.

Levi suppressed the urge into nothing more than a _snerk_ , then eyed the empty stairway ahead as if it might suddenly sprout people who would wonder what the fuck was wrong with him.

_He_ was actually wondering what the fuck was wrong with him.

He came up the last steps and around the corner, and stopped short at the sight of the one person he least wanted to see at that moment. Even above and beyond Hange.

“Uh, C-Captain!” Eren jerked around from where he’d been standing outside Levi’s door. He was blushing again, obviously flustered, and Levi wondered what the fuck he’d even been doing there. Not that he probably wanted to know what was on Eren’s mind. Eyes narrowing, Levi began moving forward again, slowly but purposefully, and Eren at least had sense enough to take it for the warning it was. He backed up against the opposite wall, away from the door, gabbling breathlessly, “I didn’t—I was just—sorry, I’m leaving now.” Levi didn’t even acknowledge his presence with a grunt as he sidled past and took off down the hall. This was steadily progressing past ridiculous to idiotic. If it kept up, he was going to have to say or do something beyond just being dismissive.

And it could be that the moment was now, because those fleeing footsteps stopped abruptly. In the silence, Levi shot a sidelong look down the hall to see Eren standing frozen at the corner, one hand braced on the wall, as if his body had suddenly locked up on him. Then: “Um, Captain,” Eren mumbled, “I just...I wanted you to know. I’m not going to bother you. With...with...the thing.”

_The thing_. Good fucking grief. Did Eren not even have the words for this? Levi couldn’t tell whether he was talking about his infatuation or his rampaging dick. It could be that Eren didn’t know either.

“So you came up here to bother me...to tell me that you _weren’t_ going to bother me.” Eren looked back, mouth clamped shut in dismay and eyes a little wild, and Levi blew out his breath noisily. “That has to be one of the most stupidly fucked-up things I’ve ever heard. Did you shit your brains out in the toilet this morning or something?”

Something obviously clicked over inside Eren’s skull at that point—not anger, going by his still-pained expression, although Levi wouldn’t have judged him for getting mad at the insults, but certainly some intense feeling, because he burst into passionate mode, which for some reason always made him more articulate. “I just wanted to let you know—I thought I should apologize to you!” He clenched his fists in helpless but urgent determination. “Because when we were down there in the baths together, I know I was really—”

“ _Shut up_.” This was absolutely not a conversation they were going to have in the hallway. Levi shoved his door open and stalked inside, snapping over his shoulder, “Get in here.”

Eren obeyed like the well-trained soldier he was, then hesitated just inside the door, looking around all wide-eyed, like this room was so different from the others in this place. “Shut that,” Levi ordered, crossing over to the far wall to set his now-cold tea on the desk. Why had he even bothered to bring it with him? Right, too annoyed with Hange to take the time to dump it out and wash the cup before coming upstairs.

He delayed, as was his right as senior officer, while Eren stood at not-quite-attention in front of the closed door, waiting for him to speak first. It had already occurred to him that dragging Eren into his personal quarters was not the most uncompromising way to deal with this situation. Getting himself alone with a kid who would probably do any fucking thing he wanted? Who had who-knew-what crazy hero-worshipping thoughts swimming around in his brain? Who was his subordinate to command?

Who had been so pitifully eager to offer him something, anything, even if it was only a fumbling attempt at understanding?

For a moment, he wished Erwin was there, instead of fucking around in the capital. _Erwin, help, I’ve got an idiot kid here with a ridiculous puppy-crush on me. Make it stop._

_He’ll be stunning in a few years._ Hange’s words filtered back to him, unwanted but insistent. He looked at Eren, scrutinized him, ignoring the effect on Eren’s composure. He wasn’t all that far off now. Just lose the last of the childish softness in his face, bring out the angles of those cheekbones and that jaw, fill out his still-skinny form with some more hard muscle. His eyes were already striking enough, startlingly green, intense, whether shadowed and brooding or blazing with a passion that sometimes bordered on the not-quite-sane. So, all right, the last wasn’t exactly alluring bedroom material, but the rest—

Shit. What the _fuck_ was he even thinking?

“What were you going to say?” he asked with what he thought was remarkable calm, keeping his voice low and even.

Eren’s back stiffened; he focused his gaze somewhere high up on the back wall. “I—was out of line, sir.”

“Out of line how?” Was he setting Eren up now, trying to get him to dig himself deeper, to embarrass and humiliate himself? No, it would probably help to know what exactly Eren thought he’d done.

“I....” Eren drew a deep breath, then lowered his eyes to stare at the floor. “I _imposed_ on you. Trying to, to get closer to you. I guess. And you have enough on you now, without me being...stupid.” _Just a stupid kid_ said the obvious shame in Eren’s face.

And he did, didn’t he? More than enough, without taking on Eren’s emotional and probably also sexual issues on top of his might-go-berserk-and-have-to-be-taken-down issues. Levi pursed his mouth, letting the silence stretch out while he waited to see if Eren had anything else to add. And apparently Eren did, because after a while he mumbled, scarcely audible, “I...I just wanted....”

“What?” Eren compressed his lips together and ducked his head, hiding his eyes.

Levi sighed in spite of himself. He started walking back toward Eren, slowly, giving himself time to look at all the ways in which what he was probably about to do was almost certainly a huge fucking mistake.

There was no getting away from reality, though. He finally had to acknowledge that he’d been so, so tempted, back there in the baths. That moment when Eren had clung to the side of the tub, looking up at him, bewilderment and naive longing written all over his face. His own hand resting on Eren’s head, that dark, wet hair sleek beneath his fingers, asking for them to comb into it, to tilt Eren’s head farther back. Eren’s slightly parted lips giving him some decidedly filthy ideas.

He was _capable_ of doing the right thing. It didn’t necessarily mean he was a good person.

He came up to Eren, close enough to put himself into the line of Eren’s downcast gaze. Eren’s eyes flinched from side to side, then settled, looking at him with a despairing resignation. Levi regarded him, then reached up, curled his hand around the back of Eren’s neck, and pulled him down—paused there, centimeters apart, just long enough for Eren to feel Levi’s breath against his lips, then closed that last distance, a brush of contact scarcely longer or heavier than that breath, before he released Eren unceremoniously.

“You realize that this is completely inappropriate,” he said, his tone mild, almost conversational, as if he hadn’t just committed said inappropriateness and probably shocked Eren to within an inch of his life. As if his own heartbeat hadn’t quickened, an unexpected surge of urgency at the touch of Eren’s mouth. “Considering I’m your senior officer.”

Eren snapped upright again, his spine stiffening, his eyes huge and glazed with panic. “Y-Yes!”

“And I’m twice your age.”

“Yes—” Eren broke off, blinking. “That much?”

“ _At least_.” He didn’t actually know exactly how old he was, but it was a fair guess. Eren’s shoulders slumped, and at first Levi thought it might be disappointment, which was moderately annoying, or maybe it was just because of the way Levi was scowling at him, but then he read the hangdog guilt in Eren’s face, more guilt than simply misjudging Levi’s age was worth, and he understood better. “I meant inappropriate for _me_. Although you’re pushing the line too,” he added, a touch of warning in his voice before he gentled it again. “You’d be well within your rights to report me to Erwin for that kiss.”

“No! _Never!_ ” And shit, Eren was so _stupid_ , but also so...devoted. So much so that it almost hurt to see it. But more than that, far more than that, the sudden burst of passion had set heat to pooling inside Levi, a low but intense liquid burn, and all the possibilities of the moment suddenly seemed so close that one could almost imagine they were inevitable.

If one wanted to. And oh fuck yes, did he want to.

“Then I’m going to ask you again,” Levi said, quiet, but sharp and unyielding as steel, ignoring the knot in his stomach, the throb of his pulse in his throat. “ _What do you want?_ ”

“I....” Staring at him, Eren drew a deep, shuddering breath, then swooped down like he was diving on a Titan. They bashed noses, painfully, and then Eren’s mouth was stumbling over Levi’s, moving with the awkward, sloppy-wet clumsiness of someone who knew that his lips were supposed to be doing something but wasn’t quite sure what. Aggravated, Levi bit Eren’s lower lip viciously, and Eren jerked back with a startled grunt. He touched the bitten spot and then checked his fingers for blood, while Levi gingerly felt at the bridge of his nose, then ground his forefinger and thumb into his temples.

“For fuck’s sake,” Levi muttered. “You are the worst—” Stepping back, he jerked his head toward the bed as he turned in that direction, “Come over here.”

Not that _he_ was the smoothest lover in the world either, but come on. If he’d had any doubts at all about Eren’s complete inexperience, that miserable attempt at a kiss would have blown them away. Somewhat uneasily he wondered if Eren had even the least understanding of what exactly he was letting himself in for.

As for himself, he’d probably never been anything like that innocent. As far back as he could recall, he’d been aware of the dangers in his world, not just death, slavery, abuse, but the uses that certain sick pieces of filth could put even the youngest children to. He’d escaped the worst by being small and quick, by knowing every bolt hole that only an undersized kid could get into, every line of escape through fences and over rooftops. And failing that, by fighting with every scrap of feral street-rat savagery that he’d possessed. The story of what Eren and Mikasa had done when they were nine years old hadn’t shocked him at all. Instead, it had been remarkably familiar.

Most of the time, that had been enough.

And when he’d gotten older and started his climb to the top of the shit heap, he’d made it a publicly known rule that anyone who laid an unwanted appendage on him was not getting it back in one piece. He supposed he must have been prettier back then, because he’d certainly broken plenty of fingers. Hands. Arms. Faces. Knocked out or shattered more teeth than Eren had in his entire mouth. And that one guy who’d come barreling out of nowhere in that bar and just started _humping_ —

He’d crotch-stomped the bastard. Ruptured something, and the man had died a day or two later. Too bad, so sad, boo hoo.

Well. _These_ were some romantic thoughts.

He gestured abruptly, and Eren sat where indicated, on the end of Levi’s bed, his hands clenching in the covers, rumpling them up. He looked nervous and all too young. Stepping close, Levi curled his fingers in Eren’s shirt and tugged once, briefly. “Off.” Eren scrambled out of his shirt without even hesitating; Levi took it from him and began folding it methodically, both to satisfy his own compulsive habits and to give Eren one last chance to lose his nerve.

He couldn’t say he was so much purer than those men. There had been a time or two, drunk, or angry, or boiling over from his own internal pressures, when he’d taken what hadn’t been given to him. He’d regretted it afterward, at least. He might not be a saint, but there was that.

It had been rare, to find a moment of normal, genuine intimacy in that life. To bring down those walls and let himself be touched.

To trust.

He dropped the folded shirt onto the bedside chair, then looked at Eren. Eren had one arm clasped across his middle as if trying cover himself, perhaps unconsciously. “Do you trust me?” Levi murmured, moving to stand in front of him.

“Yes.” Eren’s voice was throaty, almost raw, but his gaze, meeting Levi’s, was unwavering. Then a hint of uncertainty crept into it. “Captain? Just then, you looked sad....”

“It’s nothing.” He bent forward, planting one hand on the bed next to Eren. “I think you’re a fool,” he said softly, without heat. Eren’s throat moved as he swallowed convulsively, his gaze flickering about Levi’s face as Levi leaned nearer. “You don’t really know anything about me. And yet you’re so ready to let me take advantage of you. Because that’s basically what this is going to be, you know.” With a huff of irritation—aimed at himself as much as at Eren—Levi rocked backward a little, saw Eren twitch as if to follow, wearing that wide-eyed, yearning, _melting_ look again as he stared fixedly at Levi’s mouth, and Levi wondered if Eren was even listening to him. “If you were smart, you’d walk out that door right now before things go any further,” he said flatly. “Shit—if I was the person you seem to think I am, I’d _throw_ you out the fucking door. But apparently I’m not that virtuous. So....” Levi half shrugged awkwardly, then leaned in close again, startling Eren into meeting his gaze. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you. Is this what you want?” Eren’s breath caught wordlessly; his eyes fluttered half shut, thick, dark lashes veiling the green as he tilted his head in submission, and Levi clamped his other hand onto Eren’s shoulder with bruising force. “ _Eren_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Eren whispered, and Levi closed the last distance between them, pressing his mouth down onto those parted lips.

Eren had sense enough to follow his captain’s lead, at least. He let Levi’s kiss stir his mouth, coaxing first relaxation, then shy movement out of him, a tentative echoing of the shifting pressures of Levi’s lips. So he could be taught—not a hopeless case after all. Levi put one knee between Eren’s and levered them apart so he could fit his leg in there, slide it along Eren’s thigh, all the way up to nudge into his crotch. Eren stuttered into the kiss, and Levi moved his hands up to grip his head, holding him in place, fingers curling into his hair, raking his scalp. The angles were kind of awkward, given the height of the bed, but he’d rather get a crick in his neck bending down than looking up. He butted up against Eren’s junk again and felt a distinct hardness as Eren squirmed, trying to grind forward into him. Damn, the kid was fast. Then again, he was fifteen. And getting quite obviously hot and bothered—trying to drive the kissing now, parting his lips wider, his breath in Levi’s mouth along with a flick of his tongue, more slip than deliberate intrusion, Levi thought, although maybe he _was_ just that fast of a learner, getting handsy as he groped fumblingly up Levi’s sides. Levi closed teeth on his lower lip again, less cruelly but still warningly, and Eren made a strangled noise of distress and frustration.

“Pushy, aren’t you,” Levi growled against him. “What’s your rush?” 

“Ca—” Eren panted back, then, almost a groan: “Ah. _Levi_.”

And fuck if that didn’t go straight to _his_ dick. That desperation, that urgency— _shit_ , it was hot, and his blood was stirring fast. Dragging Eren’s head to one side, he leaned right into him, mouth to Eren’s ear. “Fast and rough?” he challenged. 

“Wh-whatever—whatever you want—” Panting, Eren shifted his head as much as Levi’s grip allowed, his face to Levi’s throat, inhaled—breathing him.

Shit, the _things_ he could want. He ran his tongue along the curve of Eren’s ear, raked his teeth down the lobe, giving a sharp pinch at the very end, then realized that Eren’s hands had started scrabbling up his back again, knotting in his shirt. “Get your hands out of my shirt. You rip it, you’re either fixing it or buying me a new one.” Straightening, he knocked Eren’s arms aside and stripped the shirt off quickly over his head, while Eren sat with the back of one hand pressed against his mouth, muffling his ragged breathing, eyes staring as they tracked over Levi’s chest and stomach.

Could he not fold the shirt? He could. He tossed it in the general direction of the chair, then backhanded Eren lightly on one thigh as he stepped away. “Get those pants off.” 

Eren scrambled to obey. He shucked everything off like it was on fire, leaving it all where it fell, then hesitated before sitting tentatively back down on the edge of the bed. Levi eyed him appraisingly, even though he’d seen it all already. Still-skinny, half-finished teenaged body, now hunched in on itself a little, tense with uncertainty at the strangeness of all this. Rigid cock that was not uncertain at all. Wide eyes fixed on him with unblinking focus, waiting—burning a little now, with a gathering impatience subdued, if barely, by respect and more than a little intimidation.

Levi moved forward, making Eren spread his legs again to make room for him—wider, now, further apart, as he stepped right up into him. He put his hand around Eren’s throat, just below the jaw, and pushed upward, tilting Eren’s head back, feeling the twitch as Eren swallowed against his grip. Looking deep into those green eyes, he watched the sparks kindling there. 

There was an animal inside this boy. No, a monster. He’d seen it the first time they’d spoken, when Eren had awakened chained in his dungeon cell: the mad eyes, the rictus grin.

He had no fear of that beast. None whatsoever.

He had no softness to give to the boy who contained the beast. He wasn’t that kind of man.

But then...Eren didn’t seem to want softness.

Shifting his hand, he ran the pad of his thumb over Eren’s bottom lip. He pressed in, parting Eren’s mouth to slip his thumb inside, and observed startlement flicker in Eren’s eyes before they lidded themselves and he began to suck, perhaps instinctively. 

Levi’s pants were getting uncomfortable. He took advantage of Eren’s distraction to slide his other hand inside them and rearrange himself. The wet, rhythmic suction of Eren’s mouth was playing counterpoint to his pulse, and the thought of that mouth engulfing him made his dick throb. He dragged his thumb sideways, out the corner of Eren’s mouth, leaving a damp trail along his cheek. When Eren’s eyes opened, he placed that hand on the center of Eren’s chest and shoved lightly. “Lie back.”

Eren hitched himself clumsily backward, and Levi followed somewhat more gracefully, until Eren was entirely on the mattress. Swinging a leg over at last to kneel astride Eren’s waist, Levi pushed Eren’s shoulders down until he lay flat, and then straightened to stare down at him. Eren’s color was high; he was excited, probably more than a little scared, and not sure whether he should (or could) protest his position, or indeed if there was anything to protest at all. Thoughtfully Levi ran his still-damp thumb around one of Eren’s nipples, flicked at it, and earned a sharp inhalation, some mix of arousal and indignation.

Bending forward, Levi slid both hands very slowly up the sides of Eren’s chest, up to his armpits, making Eren shiver with a hint of ticklishness, and then up even further, forcing Eren’s arms higher, and higher still, fingertips tracing the muscles, digging into them to just shy of the point of pain, until finally Levi’s hands were clamped around Eren’s forearms, pinning Eren’s hands above his head. Impassively Levi regarded Eren’s flushed face and somewhat alarmed expression, giving him a moment to test the strength that was holding him down before leaning closer. 

“Should I fuck you tonight?” Eren’s eyes widened further; he tensed against Levi’s hands. Levi didn’t so much as quirk an eyebrow; he knew the effect his emotionless face had on people. “No?” He leaned even nearer, so they were almost nose to nose. “You said ‘Whatever.’ ” And nearer still, so his breath stirred on Eren’s skin as he purr-growled, “You need to be more careful, _Eren_.” He nipped at Eren’s chin, then covered Eren’s mouth with his own again.

Eren sucked in a breath, then moaned into the kiss. Levi tongued at him—Eren got the idea instantly, opened up to him, and then it was all deep, spit-slicked, sliding and squirming and generally pornographic mouth-fucking. Eren sucked tongues just as well as he sucked fingers, it turned out. Levi got his back at last, licked at the corner of Eren’s mouth, nibbled and then sucked Eren’s lower lip—treating it a little more gently this time—rolling it between his own lips, while Eren made low animal sounds, deep in the back of his throat. 

As Levi shifted further down, angling his head to lick and gnaw the soft flesh just below Eren’s chin, then the vulnerable stretch of his throat, Eren arched his back with a strangled gasp, pushing up off his elbows and lifting his upper body completely off the bed. Levi shoved down into him, meeting that surge of strength with his own, and with the extra benefit of gravity—bulled him back onto the bed and lay full-length on top of him to help keep him there, chest to chest, stomach to, well, _upper_ stomach, and being squeezed in between their bodies gave his dick the first real burst of sensation it had had. With a grunt, he ground himself against Eren, relishing that feeling: another, stronger skirl of white-hot friction, a lance of fire right to the base of his spine. Letting go of one of Eren’s arms, he tangled his fingers in Eren’s hair, tugging at it as his mouth explored what meat there was on Eren’s slightly bony shoulder. Eren’s freed hand started wandering at once, touched the back of his neck, fingertips whispering across the stubbled hair, traced his shoulder blade almost uncertainly, then slid down Levi’s spine to cup and— _fuck—squeeze_ one ass cheek. Snarling, Levi thrust himself forward, half still rutting, half escaping that just slightly too fucking insubordinate grip, and pushed himself up on the hand that still gripped Eren’s forearm in order to glower the shitty obnoxious brat into submission.

Eren’s hips bucked underneath him, answering his own hips’ movement, then lifted again, more sharply, twisting, and Levi recognized the move just a split-second too late. His center of gravity was off just enough, and Eren’s pinned arm jerked down, throwing him further off balance as the brat heaved upward and rolled them both over—basic self-defense counter—and then he had fucking Eren sprawled half across him, scrambling to throw a leg over and practically kneeing him in the kidney in the process. 

_Fuck._

_This—_

Twisting, Levi jammed a forearm block up against Eren’s throat and wedged a knee into his gut to shove him backward, which cleared just enough room for him to get his other leg up and kick the fucker right off the bed. Eren’s brief, soaring flight ended violently as he crashed onto the floor with a yell of shock and pain.

Levi sat up, pushed his hair out of his face, and glared. “The fuck was that?” Adrenaline jittered his pulse, already elevated from all the necking and grinding, but he kept his voice flat. “Are you _looking_ for a beat down? Do _not_ pull wrestling moves on me out of the blue like that—in bed or out of it.” He allowed himself a sniff of annoyance, then regarded Eren levelly. “Or do you think you can take me?”

Eren had struggled up onto one knee, still coughing a little as he recovered from the blow but trying to gather himself to rise. From that position, he looked up at Levi, and there was a dangerous fire in his eyes: anger, checked lust, a kind of wounded betrayal. Levi tilted his head and coolly stared the boy down until he saw doubt flicker there, the first fleeting thought of retreat. “You’re lucky I didn’t crack your head open,” he remarked evenly, and watched the set of Eren’s jaw shift. Chagrin, now—Eren really was an open fucking book. “Now get your sorry ass back on this bed.”

Slowly, warily, but with an air of slightly grim determination, Eren got up and started toward him. Levi eyed him as he approached, half in readiness, just in case Eren really was pissed off enough to be that stupid and try something on him, and half in appreciation. Damn, fifteen years old—able to bounce off a wood floor and not even lose his hard-on. Or maybe it was because he was part Titan. In either case, it was impressive. 

As Eren reached the edge of the bed, he hesitated, that leashed intensity shifting toward diffidence, uncertainty, as though he didn’t know what to expect next, or what Levi expected from him. You wouldn’t think that just getting on a bed would be so challenging, but Levi supposed he couldn’t blame Eren for freezing up. The signals he’d been sending must have been pretty fucked up and confusing— _stop, go, touch you, don’t touch me_ , all leavened with violence or the threat of violence—hard to navigate for anyone, let along a clueless fifteen-year-old virgin, and for all Eren’s injured pride and stubborn strong will, there was still that deep-down core of fear whenever he was in Levi’s presence. Levi did regret that particular effect of the courtroom beating, however necessary his actions might have been at the time. So maybe, just maybe, he could manage to be a _little_ less prickly, less difficult, for the sake of a poor dumb kid who was already in way over his head. 

Still didn’t mean he had to be _gentle_. And he sure as fuck wasn’t going to let himself be manhandled.

With a nervous swallow, Eren swung himself onto the mattress at last. Levi waited as he settled awkwardly, leaning on one arm with his legs curled coltishly underneath him, as though he wasn’t sure how to arrange himself, dark lashes lowered over nervously downcast eyes—a surprisingly _pretty_ sight all around, Levi thought, before wrapping an arm around him and dragging him down, in, until they were lying together, face to face. Hooking his leg over Eren’s, Levi jerked the two of them even closer, right up into each other, driving his crotch up against the hot hardness that he could feel throbbing even through his pants. He ground his hips into Eren’s, a torturously slow circle that left Eren gasping and straining, his own hips bucking in tight, constrained jerks, helpless answer to that stimulation.

“I think I’d prefer to fuck around with you instead of tossing you around the room some more,” Levi murmured. “Don’t make me reconsider that.”

“Y-Yes!” Eren squirmed desperately against Levi, lifted his arm and then faltered in the midst of reaching out, his hand hovering in near-panicky indecision. “Can I...?”

“ _Hnn_.” No, unfair, he shouldn’t make Eren guess, any more than he’d let himself make assumptions about what Eren wanted. “Yes.” Eren’s wavering hand touched the back of his head, then shifted down to curl a little less tentatively behind his shoulder. “No hair pulling, and you don’t leave any visible marks on me. Got that?”

“Ah—y-yeah.” Levi rewarded him with another, sharper thrust, and Eren groaned. 

“And watch it with the ass grabbing. You don’t know me that well yet.” No coherent answer from Eren this time, just panting and low, inarticulate noises in the back of his throat, but his hands stayed high, politely above Levi’s waist. They raked the upper part of Levi’s spine, then splayed flat against his back as Eren’s arms came around him, tightening convulsively when Levi gave him more, and then a little more, picking up the pace, the intensity, snarling softly with the effort and with his own growing hunger. He dug his fingers into Eren’s hips, not guiding so much as driving their movement with brusque urgency. Gasping, Eren curled into him, trying to bridge the height difference—fluttering puffs of hot breath against the side of his throat, moist lips trailing downward followed by the scrape of teeth, possibly trying to be light but failing miserably, and then a sharp, stinging clench as Levi slid his hands down and back, gripping Eren’s ass fiercely for better leverage, and Eren bit down _hard_ at the junction of his neck and shoulder, moaning desperately into the flesh, not protest but raw pleasure. _Of course_ Eren was a biter, although probably Levi deserved it for groping his ass about two seconds after bitching about having Eren’s hands on his own. At least Eren seemed to _like_ having his ass molested.

_Nice_ fucking ass, too, tight and straining, clenching, quivering under his hands. 

With a growl, Levi dug his nails in until Eren released his neck with a thin, panting cry, then heaved forward, rolling them so that Eren was sprawled on his back again. This shit was all right but not good enough—he wanted _more_. Eren underneath him like this, flushed, head thrown back— _fuck, yes_ —ragged breaths jerking his whole body as Levi bit at the rise of his chest, raked one hand down his side to clutch at the jut of his hip. Their cocks caught against each other, rough slide, jammed in between them as Levi thrust fast and sharp—and with a low, strangled sound, Eren bucked once more, then stiffened, shuddering as he shot his load, quick, twitching spurts that swiftly splattered them both.

As Eren trembled beneath him, gulping for breath, still more gone than not, Levi shoved himself up and off, shifting to kneel next to him instead. With a hiss of discomfort, he jerked his pants open, freeing his dick, and relaxed a little as the pressure and friction of the cloth eased. Damn kid had come on his pants as well as on both their stomachs, but then the pants had already been slimed with Eren’s leaking, so they would have been laundry anyway. His own fault besides, for not taking them off before things got messy. Levi swept the trail of Eren’s spunk off his stomach with one finger, then pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped that finger fastidiously, followed by the remnant of dampness on his front. By the time he was finished, his own breathing had just about settled, although his heart still thumped insistently, its beat echoing in the urgent pulse in his dick. Folding the handkerchief around the mess and dropping it off the bed, he turned his attention back to Eren. 

He was able to study Eren for a good few more seconds before the kid snapped back into himself, his eyes widening even before they lifted to meet Levi’s gaze. Barely anything had happened, just some rolling around, dry humping like kids—well, like the kid that one of them was—like a couple of church brats afraid of divine retribution, and Eren looked like he’d had his mind completely blown by the experience. His expression was dazed, almost awestruck, with just a hint of anxiety creeping in at the edges as he started coming back to reality. And as Levi stared down at him, lying stretched out full length on the bed, the flush of desire still lingering, a fierce heat coiled and clenched in his stomach, abrupt, vicious as a sword striking—the thought of taking things far beyond that child’s play, the image of Eren truly fucked out, driven to his limit and then farther, sprawled slack and resistless and open beneath him, shadowed green eyes near black beneath half-closed lids, mouth reddened with savage kisses, with the heat and friction of taking Levi’s cock— 

Shoving the thought aside, Levi dragged himself back to the present. This was a _kid_ , his charge, and a fucking innocent on top of it all, and he’d already crossed way too many boundaries for one night. He was going to keep things easy and _casual_ , damn it. He could be a beast on his own time.

“So?” he asked, with a lift of his eyebrows. “That was fast. Get your rocks off all right?”

“Um,” Eren said in a tiny voice, which Levi interpreted as _yes sir_ coming through the filter of _I can’t believe this just happened and oh shit what do I do now?_ His gaze ducked away from Levi’s, travelled down Levi’s body instead, as if taking refuge in tracing the cut of his abs, until it got to his lap, where it froze, locked onto the sight of his very obviously unsatisfied hard-on. Eren swallowed; Levi could see the sharp movement of his throat. “C-Captain,” he got out at last, his voice cracking a little on the title, “you...were you...I mean, y-you were going to....”

“Fuck you? Why, were you especially looking forward to that part?” Levi curled his fingers around his cock, slightly shorter than Eren’s but thicker, hard and heavy in his hand, and Eren’s gaze leaped back up to his face, not quite in panic, but not far from it either. “Ever had a man’s dick up your ass?”

“N-No!” And Eren was so tense that you probably couldn’t even stick a pinkie finger up there right at that moment. “I...I don’t know. I never really thought about it, about stuff like that, until—” He caught his breath. And then, as he stared up at Levi, thinking the fuck only knew what, that wild look lightened for some reason, eased—surprise, some dawning realization—and then softened, the tightness leaving his expression until it was unguarded, as guileless and wide open as the one he’d worn down in the baths, and Levi’s stomach did a weird combination of flutter and sink. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was probably screwed.

“But now,” Eren murmured, and he smiled, still shaky, but calmer and more certain as he held Levi’s gaze, “now I think that if it’s _you_ , then it’s okay.” Shifting his hand, he brushed his fingertips against Levi’s knee, silent question, wordless offer. “ _Captain._ ” 

“Mmph,” and Levi had to look away from that painful— _sweetness_ , damn it, and _trust_ , and angry, messed-up teenaged soldiers should not be fucking sweet or trusting, but there it was. As he turned his head, the movement gave him the slightest twinge from the bite on his neck, and he put his hand to it, focusing deliberately on the distraction. No visible marks, he’d said, and he thought this one was just barely low enough not to have crossed that line. “You’re lucky I usually wear a cravat,” he muttered, with less heat than the indignity probably deserved. Then he sighed, looked back at Eren, and snorted once more, this time with less sentiment. “Well, since someone sprang this ‘thing’ on me without any warning, we’re not exactly prepared for that.” His one and currently only jar of hand cream was not getting near anyone’s ass, and the whole biting thing was making him second guess the idea of having Eren suck him off. And hadn’t he just decided to keep things easy for Eren, not to take this too far? Maybe another time, then—and the fuck was this _another time_ coming from? _Shit_. Eren’s stomach was still sticky and disgusting; Levi swung his leg over Eren’s thighs instead and settled astride them. “So instead we’re going to go with what you already know.” Eren stared at him with blank bewilderment, and Levi rolled his eyes. “You _are_ familiar with your own hand.”

“Uh, yeah.” Eren blushed a furious red, and Levi wondered how he’d made it through barracks life and still come out such a complete and perfect virgin. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and, with a darting, nervous look at Levi, licked at his palm. Levi’s skin crawled a little—because _spit_ , even though they’d already swapped plenty of it with the kissing, but that was kissing and saliva unfortunately came with the territory—but seeing the quick pink swipes of Eren’s tongue as it ran over his hand stirred that lust again, a visceral reaction from whatever animal part of him didn’t actually give a shit. And it was honestly more sophistication than he’d expected from Eren, which was pretty sad.

Eren reached out, wrapped his fingers around Levi’s cock, a sudden burst of sensation, _pleasure_ —his hand was hot, surprisingly so, which made the spit-dampness less clammy and therefore somewhat less gross. He’d noticed from before that Eren ran warm, but it was even more distinct when Eren was surrounding him, and Levi barely muffled a groan into a catch of breath, because that thought took him back to fucking— _damn_ , if only, but Eren’s hand felt pretty good too, and he wasn’t going to bitch. A careful slide along the length of him, down to the base of his dick and then back up, a little too cautious, and after a few moments of that he muttered, “Harder. It’s not going to fall off.” Eren made a breathless noise of acknowledgment, sounding almost eager, even excited—his grip closed more firmly, his hand started moving in earnest, callused, a little rough, but still it felt _good_ , that was _fine_ , and fuck, it had definitely been way too long since anyone else had touched him. The steady burn of pleasure as Eren worked him—it made the whole world simple for a change, narrowed down to just that heat, that movement, the firm pressure of Eren’s hand enclosing his dick, the deep hunger for _more_. He clamped his thighs tighter on Eren’s and leaned back, arching, his hands braced on the mattress as he pushed his hips forward. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythm of Eren’s hand, the sensations it stroked from him, caught the faint gasp from Eren, like _he_ was the one getting off, or being gotten off, and it spiked his own need, a startling surge of hunger.

Then _touch_ —fingers trailing over his belly, shy, light, and he flinched before he could stop himself, hollowed his stomach and leaned away. “Ha, sorry,” Eren whispered, but he didn’t retreat, just laid his palm flat against the tightened muscles, resting it there like he was soothing some damned skittish horse, even when Levi half opened his eyes to stare warningly at him, and after a moment Levi straightened, eased himself back to center. Come on, he had his _dick_ in Eren’s hand; barring being tied up somehow, he couldn’t get much more vulnerable than that. _Let go_ , he ordered himself, reaching for conviction. _This kid—the stupid brat trusts you. Fool that he is—but you’ve put trust in him too. Humanity’s hope, or whatever. Even let him in your bed—a fucking Titan shifter. So give him that much. Just for right now. The worst you have to fear out of him is some dumb-kid mistake._

_Let it go._

He willed himself to unclench, and as he made himself relax, Eren’s hands started to move again, the one on his dick pumping him, slow and even, the other running over his stomach, tracing its ridges like lines on a map, as if trying to memorize the landscape. It slid down to press against the lowest part of his belly, Eren’s thumb rubbing across the top of his groin, just above his dick, back and forth through the short hairs, and then in tiny, focused circles, somehow right over that inner coiling of desire and tension and unquenched molten heat, and under that gentle pressure something opened in him, that forced relaxation settling to become more real, sinking into flesh and bone. He leaned back again, shifted his hips, and Eren’s jacking hand began to move more quickly, riding him, tight and sure. Eren’s other hand closed around his base as the first rolled up over the head and then down, slicking him with his own fluids— _fuck_ , that slide, yes, and he thrust up into Eren’s fist, breath hissing between his teeth. Eren had both hands into it now; Levi could feel them trembling a little, but strong, a soldier’s hands, used to blade and gun; the flex of Eren’s wrists as he shifted his grip again, pressed his thumbs up along the underside as his hands moved— _come on, you fucker, yes, more_ —the muscles of Eren’s thighs tensing as he started to lift up into Levi, restless, convulsive, instinctive, and then forced himself down again with a choked grunt. Levi’s eyes had closed; he opened them again to watch Eren’s face, the naked emotions plastered all over it—no fear now, instead such amazement, almost awe, gratification, and hunger to, what, see his captain come all undone in his hands? 

_Maybe._

Lifting one hand, Levi splayed his fingers against his own stomach, raked his nails over the skin. Eyes half-lidded, he held Eren’s gaze, boring unblinkingly into it with his own as he rolled his hips up into Eren’s grasp. “Faster,” he growled. “Make me come.” Eren gasped, obeyed, working him with an almost desperate energy— _good, this_ , building more quickly, winding him tighter. His breath was starting to come faster, more erratic, panting tensely through his teeth. But he kept watching Eren, his focus shifting from the clenching throb in his cock to those hugely dilated eyes, to Eren’s mouth parting, the wet, full curve of Eren’s lower lip, quivering on soundless words, and then back to the friction of his cock head against Eren’s palms, the sensation sharpening, so fucking intense now, his balls drawing up, _almost_ , the lift of Eren’s chest as he inhaled abruptly, the wriggle of his hips as he squirmed beneath Levi, his dick swollen hard again, a gasp that might have been a plea, _Captain, Levi, come_ —and those hands, hot and perfect, _Eren’s, his_ , stripping away the final barriers in one last worshipful stroke—he lunged forward off Eren’s legs, up into Eren’s hands as he broke, came sweet and hard, splattering over the mess on Eren’s stomach, thunder in his head, pounding release in his crotch. “ _Fuck!_ ”—so goddamned good—“ _ah_ ,” and had that actually come out of his mouth? _Shit, yes._

Gasping a little, he sank back, hands balled on his hips, head bent as he waited for his breathing to ease up, for his senses to stop reeling. A moment more, and he had to brush Eren’s hands away from him—enough, too much touch just then. And Eren’s messy fingers, and his own jizz-sticky cock, ugh....

Sex was such a filthy, slimy, genuinely embarrassing and ludicrous exercise. But still, even he had to say it was worth it.

So. Back-up handkerchief, in the other pocket. He pulled it out and wiped himself off as lightly as possible, grimacing, then was about to pass it to Eren, who was in what one might delicately call “a state” (if one happened to be delicate, which he was not), before he remembered. He glanced down at Eren’s renewed and raging hard-on, and then cocked an eyebrow at the horny brat. Eren was so red it was hard to tell if he was blushing from mortification or lust-heat.

“S-Sorry.” Eren made an abortive gesture toward covering his crotch before realizing there was no real point to trying. “I guess I got a little too carried away.” He swallowed, gave Levi a little sidelong look from under his lashes, and dared, “Seeing you.”

“Hm.” Flattering, even if Eren’s age meant that he could get too carried away any time the wind blew or a shadow shifted across the floor. Leaning forward, Levi traced a finger up the underside of Eren’s cock, rather enjoying the shuddering twitch that went through Eren’s body. “Well, if this is my fault, then maybe I should do something about it.”

“Oh,” Eren breathed, then added fervently, “Yes. _Please_.”

It amused Levi that Eren was stammering far less after they’d had sex than he had been before. He certainly seemed more at ease and a little less intimidated, having crossed that line and come through unscathed. Post-orgasm relaxation had mostly likely helped too, not to mention the experience of successfully getting his commanding officer off. It was a good change, Levi decided. Just as long as Eren didn’t decide to get obnoxious with it.

Tucking himself back into his pants, Levi stood up on the bed, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Eren stretched out full length below him, naked and aroused, then nudged Eren’s legs apart with one foot. They opened willingly, eagerly, and he knelt down again, settling in between them. Sliding his hands under Eren’s inner thighs, he pressed them up and outward, spreading them still farther apart, until Eren’s legs were splayed helplessly wide, leaving everything between them bared and accessible.

As he bent forward over Eren, he heard a stutter of indrawn breath—glanced up to see Eren staring at him with huge, startled eyes. Levi wondered for a moment, then looked down and noted the proximity of his face to Eren’s cock. His gaze slid up to Eren’s again, and as he experimentally dipped his head a little lower he read disbelief, accompanied by a flare of wildly hopeful excitement.

So Eren thought that he might...?

Levi’s mouth curved into a smirk, and a tremor of some emotion—surprise?—went through Eren. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, brat,” Levi murmured. He ran one finger lightly, almost ticklishly along the inside of Eren’s right thigh, then put his head down and bit— _hard_.

Eren yelped, unexpectedly loud, and Levi snapped his head up to snarl, “Muffle that.” As Eren jerked his hands up to his mouth, Levi added in a sharp hiss, “ _And don’t bite your fingers!_ ” The last thing they needed was for Eren to transform into a fucking Titan and explode the room. He glared until he was satisfied that Eren’s hands were clamped down over his mouth, not inside it, and then went back to his business. He bit at that reddening place again, scraped his teeth over it and then sucked rapaciously as Eren whined, trembling, his leg jerking once or twice against Levi’s unyielding grip. He worked the spot over long and thoroughly, varying the pressure and suction, ended with a light, swirling lick over the sensitized flesh, and then sat up, rumbling at the back of his throat in satisfaction. “There. Now I’ve marked _you_ , you shitty neck-biting brat. Should I do the other side too? Give you a matching set?”

“ _Nnn_ ,” Eren moaned around his hands, and then, panting, almost keening—“Ah! _Yes!_ ”

_The fuck_.... With a slight frown, Levi turned to the other side, located the precisely opposite spot and attacked it with equal vigor, despite a stirring undercurrent of misgivings. Bite, suck, and lick, every movement fierce, slow, deliberate, while Eren groaned and whimpered, until at last Levi straightened once more.

“Look,” he ordered, low-voiced command, and as Eren lifted his head, peeking over his hands, Levi brushed light fingers across the twin marks staining his thighs. “Paid you back, two for one.” He prodded them a little harder, and Eren flinched. “Those would’ve darkened up nicely. Too bad they won’t even last long enough for you to feel them when you walk out of here tonight.” Levi snorted wryly, not regretting his efforts despite their futility. “You and your special healing ability. No real way to mark you up short of a tattoo or something, is there.” And would even _that_ work, he wondered.

Eren was mute, his head falling back against the pillow and his eyes closing, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. Levi watched him for a moment, then shifted forward. Settling his hip in the hollow of Eren’s thigh, he leaned on one arm above him, careful not to come into contact with his front. 

“Eren,” he said quietly. “Did you _like_ it when I was beating you?”

Eren’s eyes jerked open. He started as he met Levi’s gaze, obviously closer than he’d expected—tensing, that fear again, and then, as his eyes lingered on Levi’s face, calming once more, gentling with understanding; _oh._ Strange feeling, that, a fluttering chill and then ease following right upon it, at the thought that Eren might have read him, caught the thread of his concern. He wasn’t used to being _seen_ like that.

“You mean, did I get off on the pain?” Eren’s voice was husky, still tangled up in desire. Then he shook his head. “No—it hurt so bad, I mean, really bad, and I was so scared, and humiliated....” He broke off and glanced aside, his lips tightening.

“But the memory’s there when you look at me.” Levi pressed. “Is that part of what you want? Is that what excites you about me? That I _hurt_ you?”

Eren drew in another, deeper breath, as if surprised, then let it out slowly, thoughtfully. “I don’t...it’s not that you hurt me,” he said at last. He turned and met Levi’s gaze again. His eyes were so dark that Levi thought he could fall into his own reflection, disappear into Eren’s boundless faith and trust. “It’s that you _could_ hurt me. And you don’t. Not if you don’t have to.”

Sitting up, Levi touched his thigh again, and Eren shivered. “This isn’t pain?”

“N-No. Not the kind of pain that breaks you, that makes you feel hopeless and, and _abused_. It’s like—getting hit, and getting mad, and then it’s like you can do anything. Except...not mad.” Eren frowned, chewed his lip gently. “I’m not doing so well at explaining it.”

“No, I understand.” And was relieved, honestly. Traumatizing brats was not his kink. _Rough_ could be good, sharp and clean and freeing, but beyond that.... 

He’d seen more than enough scumbags who took pleasure in others’ pain and fear, and the human wreckage that they left behind them. He didn’t think he had it in him to become that kind of sadist, and if he did, he didn’t really want to find that out. He was very good at brutality, perhaps too good in the minds of most people, but to start _enjoying_ it—that was a road it was better not to go down. And to bring that cruelty into something like this....

_Not with Eren. Never with Eren._

Well, and— _shit_. Fuck. How the _fuck_ had he gotten to this place—how was he falling so damn _fast?_ And how crushingly hard was the landing going to be?

And why was he finding the threat of it...an acceptable risk.

“It’s like flying,” he murmured, trying to drag himself back to the conversation, although he wasn’t even sure he still had the original thread of it, that it hadn’t gotten hopelessly snarled up in his own thoughts, “that kind of feeling,” _the adrenaline surge, right,_ that was what he was talking about, and he looked up to be rewarded— _startled_ —by the fire in Eren’s eyes, that all-consuming blaze of intensity.

“Captain, this, the reason it’s so—” Struggling up on one arm, Eren grabbed Levi’s wrist, pressing his hand down against the mark he’d made. He drew another shuddering breath, as if gathering himself, and then burst out, “ _I want to be yours_.”

Levi snapped his hand out of Eren’s grip, his fingers closing into a fist. “You’re your own person, Eren,” he admonished sharply. Too far now— _definitely_ that was too far. “You’re not anyone’s possession—”

“ _I know!_ I know.” Eren was literally trembling with raw emotion. “All I ever wanted, the reason I always meant to join the Survey Corps, ever since I was a little kid, was to be _free_. So I know, it doesn’t even make any sense, but....” He faltered, then went on in a frowning rush, “But still, somehow, I want to be yours. _Too_.” 

The thought of people owning other people repulsed him, so why did that confession make his heart leap, make his skin feel too small to hold the sudden lightning flicker beneath it? And somehow Eren, watching him so intently, must have picked up on that reaction. The deadly seriousness melted, became the tremor of a smile instead, embarrassed but also knowing— _that utter,_ utter _brat_ —and beyond everything else so wrenchingly, heart-breakingly sincere. 

“I’m putting myself in your hands, Captain,” he murmured. 

A heartbeat passed, and then another, before Levi unstuck his voice, found something even to _say_ to that. “Didn’t I already tell you that you should be more careful?” he muttered. Fuck, that sounded weak. Pathetic. He raised his voice, sharpening his tone. “You don’t know shit about me, and you’re still saying things like that? That kind of trust is fucking dangerous. Because you know what, people are _shits_.” He was clearly not saying the right things, because it was obvious that he wasn’t getting through Eren’s thick head at all. The idol-worshipping idiot was just looking at him, moony-eyed, impervious to any kind of sense, and he bared his teeth in rising irritation. “I don’t know what kind of weird fantasy you have going on, but this is the real world, and what do you think happens when you hold someone up to the sky like that and then find out they have feet of clay, just like everyone else—” Eren actually _snickered_ at that, the little fucktard, and Levi broke off to glare at him. “ _What?_ ”

“Not you, Captain.” Eren made another stifled sound of amusement, then tried to look innocent, and failed dismally. “Never. Clay’s too dirty.”

Levi stared long and hard at Eren. “You really can be a little shit, can’t you.” Eren’s eyes glinted, and then his smirk was wiped away by a look of appalled shock as Levi’s hand closed around his balls.

“Putting yourself in my hands, hmm?” He fingered them slowly, consideringly, his gaze fixed on Eren’s increasingly alarmed face—tensed his grip, pulling them down a little, a little more, farther, tighter, _careful_ , then eased up at the first hint of a flinch. Not a sadist, perhaps, but apparently not above terrorizing the brat just a bit. Smug little fuck had deserved that. “All right, then. Maybe next time I _will_ fuck you.” Still gripping Eren’s balls, he extended two fingers down to rub at Eren’s taint, pressing in firmly, deliberately, watching as Eren gasped and shivered, hips moving in convulsive reaction, then slid those fingers farther back, tugging lightly at Eren’s balls again, to brush the ridges of his asshole. Eren jumped, arching his back. 

“You want me in here, don’t you,” Levi murmured. He glanced down, a quick, assessing flicker of his eyes, then lifted them to lock gazes with Eren again. He could see the heat already returning to Eren’s face, embarrassment grappling with desperate arousal. “Want me to fuck that tight little shitter wide open. Ream you until you can feel it in your back teeth. Am I right, Eren?” He flicked his finger across Eren’s hole again, more sharply, and Eren let out a choking moan. Eren’s erection, which had started flagging during the conversation break, had surged back to life. “Hmph. You’d like that, I can tell.” Levi dragged his fingers back up Eren’s crotch, his palm rolling Eren’s ballsack up against his dick, then stroked them in one smooth line through the split between his balls, up the veiny underside of his shaft, until they wrapped around it, encircling it tightly, just below the head. “Look how hard you are just at the thought of it. _Me_ , fucking you.” He pumped Eren once, emphatically, bringing a tiny gush of fluid from his already glistening slit. Rolling his thumb through the slick, he smeared it across the head, then down onto Eren’s shaft as he jacked it again, beginning a brisk rhythm. “ _Shit_ , yes. Driving all the way up into you—fucking you hard and fast—just like this—”

Little whimpering cries were already escaping Eren, quiet enough that Levi thought he could get away without ordering silence. “Look at you panting for it,” he growled instead, lethally soft. “Or maybe I’ll just fuck that mouth of yours instead. Put it to some good use.” Eren’s eyes were huge, shocked, and Levi’s lip curled in satisfaction, a smirk, a sneer, he didn’t even know what Eren would take it for. What he did know was that his own dick was taking a definite interest in the proceedings. He shifted, straightening subtly until he found a position that was slightly less uncomfortable. Damn pants. “Hm, I like that thought. Your mouth’d be hot and wet, wouldn’t it. Could see how deep you can take me. Feel your tongue on me as you suck me off.” Lifting the hand that wasn’t busy with Eren’s dick, he licked at his own fingers as filthily as possible, running his tongue along them, eyes half-lidded but unwavering on Eren’s, then scissored them over Eren’s cock head, saliva mingling sloppily with the pre-come. As the vee of Levi’s fingers raked across him, Eren fell back against the mattress, his hands flying up to clench above his head, his forearms half-hiding his face. He writhed, gasping, his muscles straining, as Levi’s hand rolled over the end of his dick, dragging around its rim. And when Levi found the especially sensitive spot just below the head and started working it, Eren wailed in desperate abandon, gorgeous with it, head flung back and eyes closed, _shit_. Levi lightened his touch briefly, feathering up Eren’s shaft, more teasing than not, leaned forward to breathe across the head, and as Eren tensed, shuddered, Levi sat back, took him the last of the way in a rush of sudden, fast, hard jerks, murmuring as Eren’s hips jolted up to meet his hand, “That’s right. Come for me.”

Eren came like a fucking fountain, jizz arcing up over his stomach, making Levi glad he’d shifted backward in time. With entirely justifiable satisfaction he watched Eren spasm wildly, face scrunched up in the most ridiculous way, until at last he collapsed in an exhausted, limp sprawl, the breath wheezing in and out of him. While Eren recovered himself, Levi found the less-used of the two handkerchiefs and cleaned off his hands, making a mental note to stock his room with towels in the future. Which apparently meant that he was resigned to there being a future in this....

_Resigned_ made it sound like a grim necessity. That wasn’t it at all. _Surrendered_ , maybe, to his own desire, and to Eren’s, to that youth and passion and absolute purity of heart, and he could wish that he was a better person, someone who would have said _no_ and meant it, who would have left that boy and his innocence untouched.

_Could_ wish that. Ultimately...didn’t.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Eren stirred at last. “Captain...?”

“It’s ‘Levi’ when you’re in my bed.” And perhaps that was an error in judgment—Levi didn’t want to delude himself or Eren by pretending that this wasn’t all kinds of ethical violation. But when Eren said his name softly, lingering over it, as if testing it out, he found that he couldn’t regret the decision.

“Um. You could,” Eren went on, quavery but eager. “I mean. Fuck me. Tonight.” Eren had definitely gotten bolder, all right, and the way his eyes dwelt on the taut bulge in Levi’s pants showed hunger winning out over shyness, or nervousness, or in fact anything remotely resembling good sense. Levi grimaced to himself, then caught Eren’s gaze with a flat look.

“Yeah. I could. And without lube for your ass, it’ll hurt like a son of a bitch. Plus I’m not interested in having you _bleed_ on me.” Eren opened his mouth, and Levi cut him off. “And don’t give me some bullshit about how it’ll heal; that’s not the point. It—” And at that precise instant a sudden, awful, _stupid_ mental image ambushed him—he choked on it, eyes widening, his breath escaping in a “ _Pfft!_ ” before he could stop himself.

“Huh?” Eren wondered, and Levi groaned, his head dropping forward.

“Shit. Now I’m thinking about steam coming out of your ass.” Putting a hand to his face, he tried to regain some dignity but wasn’t quite able to suppress another strangled sneeze-like explosion. At least Eren couldn’t see him losing his shit; Eren had already covered his own face with both hands, his shoulders shaking. “I so did not need to imagine that. _Your fault_ , Yeager. All your fault.”

“ _Nnf_ ,” Eren mumbled, in what sounded more like muffled embarrassment than protest. “But still...I’m kinda glad.” Lowering his hands, Eren met Levi’s incredulous look with that smile, innocent and wicked and so brilliantly alight with feelings that it hurt, literally, physically, as piercing as that first glimpse of sun, six years gone, of the bright and boundless sky beyond the walls. “Because I got to see you laugh tonight. _Twice_.”

Like that was a gift. Some kind of wonder in Eren’s world.

It took Levi a moment, one that seemed endless, and then with a wrench like he’d left a piece of some vital internal organ behind, he dragged his eyes from Eren’s face and swung away, kicked his legs off the bed, stood up brusquely. The first handkerchief, still lying where he’d dropped it on the floor, offended him, and he crouched to pick it up, snarling a little at the awkwardness of doing so given the current, stubbornly insistent state of his dick.

When he rose, Eren had propped himself up, half-sitting. “You’re still...do you want me to...?” He bit his lip, his hand hesitating just above the bed, half gesturing at Levi.

Oh, yes. And—no. There was too much going on in him right now, too complicated, too conflicted; he needed a little space to breathe. He could wait for this hard-on to go away on its own; or if not, he had hands, he could deal it himself.

And the memory of Eren getting off to his touch would be fap material for a week. At least.

“Hmph.” Levi tossed both handkerchiefs onto Eren’s stomach, for what little good they would do him. “Right now you’re a disgusting mess. Clean yourself off and get out.” He turned from Eren’s startled, confused, and hurt-angry look, hesitated, and then, with a soundless sigh, he dipped his head and yielded, left the door open for what might be. “If you don’t have any morning-after regrets, _then_ we’ll talk about this ‘yours’ business.”

“I won’t regret,” Eren replied, low and fierce, and Levi didn’t need to see the thunderous determination in his eyes to know exactly what it would look like.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm somewhat ambivalent about this fic--it's one of the ones that seemed like a brilliant idea at the time and then just got messier and more problematic as I worked on it. Levi's characterization might be kind of a hot mess in this first part (I think mostly because he himself can't settle on who he is or wants to be), and the consent issues, ugh. But I think the porn's not too bad? I don't even know at this point. ^_^;;;
> 
>  
> 
> (7/5/14: I did in fact edit out the Farlan bit, as mentioned in my reply to Anonony's comment below; it really just wasn't working for me either.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren has no regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Levi does something kind of dumb and not very safe in this chapter. If you have a trigger relating to asphyxiation, please take care; it's very mild but present.
> 
> As with the previous part, if you dislike power differentials and adult/teen smut, you should avoid this fic.

_Two days_. For two days he’d been waiting, his breath catching in nervous excitement every time Levi made an appearance—which was strangely infrequently, since Levi seemed to be gone about some business most of the time, and seriously, what could he even be _doing?_ And when Levi _was_ around, there was an air of remoteness around him, not even the usual don’t-bother-me annoyance, just a weird, blank distance. Eren had restrained himself at first, hanging back, waiting for Levi to give him some sign of...of _anything_ , honestly, but after the first day (and night, he’d been absolutely sure _something_ would happen at night) he’d started putting himself in Levi’s way. Not obnoxiously—at least, he didn’t think so—but persistently, just being _there_ , wherever Levi was, trying to catch his eye, hoping to see some sort of recognition of the thing that had happened between them. When that failed to work, he tried to bring it up himself, but it seemed like there was always someone else around, when he could even find Levi at all. In his frustration, he found himself wishing there was some special signal flare he could send up: _Attention, Captain, I really have to talk to you._

Was Levi avoiding him? The all-too-obvious possibility was wrenching, made him feel cold down to the bones. Had Levi changed his mind, decided that he really didn’t want to get involved with someone like Eren after all? But Levi was the kind of person who always said exactly what he was thinking. Eren couldn’t believe that he would be hiding. Running away. There had to be something else, some reason for the silence, for the brooding stare that looked right through him, something important that Eren was missing. It was some kind of test, maybe. Maybe Levi was waiting to see what he’d do.

Eren had actually wondered if he should just turn up in Levi’s bed, uninvited. The idea was wildly tempting, but also terrifying. Back when it had all been happening, he’d found himself slipping in and out of fearlessness, reeling with overpowering sensation and incredulous wonder and a crazy, unspeakable joy at being utterly in Levi’s hands, at his mercy— _like flying_ , Levi had said, speaking of pain, not pleasure, but it was true all the same. Standing in the ordinary light of day, he didn’t know how to find his way back to that place. 

So instead he hovered awkwardly, volunteered to clean things, anything, _all_ the things (until Levi finally said _leave it_ , and when did the captain _ever_ turn down cleaning?). He’d tried to get Levi to help him practice a complicated hand-to-hand throw, and Levi had instead paired him up with _Connie_. He’d even tried making Levi tea, which had earned him a flat look of _what the fuck are you doing_ , and he’d retreated quickly.

But at least Levi had drunk the tea.

So by the morning of the third day he was absolutely at his limit, sick with anxiety, fed up with having to sneak off to the nearest water closet whenever he slipped up and thought a little too long about what had happened that night (or might happen in the future), increasingly angry, too, at being treated like this, ignored, dismissed, like he was nothing. When he saw Levi standing in the front hall, swinging a cloak around his shoulders, getting ready to go out somewhere _again_ , his temper crested, flared into sudden, blinding heat. Stalking up to Levi, Eren ducked his head and hissed, close to Levi’s ear, where no one could hear him, even though for once there actually wasn’t anybody else around, “I told you I wouldn’t regret it! _And I don’t!_ ” Levi tilted his head away, lifting his chin as he looked sidelong up at Eren, and the anguish was like someone breaking bones inside his chest. “ _Why_ are you—” He choked on the question, unable to settle on the words to complete it. _Ignoring me. Rejecting me. Being a_ prick.

Those cool gray eyes measured him, knife-flat and unforthcoming, chill to his heat. Then: “My room. Tonight, after dinner,” Levi murmured, and was gone, out the door, into the streets of Trost, leaving Eren staring gape-mouthed after him.

_He said...._

_He...._

And such a blazingly ecstatic surge of _yes, yes, yes!_ shot through Eren’s entire body, it felt like he could run straight up the walls and dance on the ceiling.

 

Actually being in Levi’s room again turned out to be more nervewracking than ecstatic. He found himself standing just in front of the closed door, like the last time, but with Levi sitting behind the table that served as a desk, leaning on the arm of his chair, fingers resting against his lips as he studied Eren, which made Eren all too intensely aware of Levi’s mouth. He tried to focus on meeting Levi’s gaze instead, but the way those eyes seemed to see all of him, from the surface of his skin, the shape of his body, all the way down into the depths of his hammering heart, made him feel weak, as insubstantial as air. He jerked his gaze away, swallowed hard, and then suddenly couldn’t take that considering silence anymore.

“ _Sir._ ” It occurred to him too late that maybe he should have used Levi’s name instead. Did “in his bed” mean whenever they were meeting to do...whatever they were going to do, or did it just literally mean in his bed? Levi only made a low sound of acknowledgment, and he gathered his courage, fueled it with all his built-up confusion and frustration. “Why have you been ignoring me—why wouldn’t you even talk to me before now? Or....” _Touch me. Look at me like this._ His face burned. “I mean, it’s been three days since—”

“ _Only_ three days,” Levi cut in, and Eren bristled at the dryly amused mockery in his tone, the implication that Eren was just an immature brat with no self-control or sense of proportion, but then it shifted toward something more serious, almost grave. “I needed some time and distance to think. And so did you.”

“I don’t need to think—I don’t!” he insisted in a rush, before the sarcastic comment he could already see coming left Levi’s mouth. “I already know what I want.” He took a deep breath. “ _You._ ” What had been low-voiced and passionate and maybe even sexy in his head came out threadbare, cracking with yearning, with need. Damn it, he sounded _pathetic_. Anger burned in him, at himself, and at Levi, for making this so fucking difficult. “Don’t treat me like I’m a child!” he exploded. “If I’m old enough to be a soldier, to fight Titans, to _die_ —”

 _That_ —was the wrong thing to say. He looked up to see the tightness in Levi’s mouth, the shadow of loss in his eyes. Too late to take it back though. And it was _true_ , and why couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ Levi see....

“There’s something on the nightstand.” Still that gentle evenness, almost more terrifying than the whipcrack of anger would have been. “Go and look.”

It was a relief to break that stillness and move, although he was so wound up that he almost felt unsteady crossing the room. There was a basin of water and a small pile of white washcloths—matching the towels stacked on the wooden chair on the other side of the bed—but those were obviously not what he was supposed to be looking at.

It was the black leather collar lying across the top of the cloths.

The entire world seemed to slow, so that each beat of his pulse was like the boom of an advancing Titan’s footsteps. Heat crawled across him, or cold, or maybe both, he couldn’t tell. The part of him that wanted to scream and run just stared at his hands as they slowly reached out, picked up the strap. 

The glint of the metal fittings. The supple flex of the leather. The weight of it, lying across his palms.

“It’s your choice.” Levi’s voice sounded the way voices did when he’d fallen too deep inside his Titan form, dreamlike and muffled, coming at him from a long way off. “It’s always your choice. You can take it off anytime you need to.” The scrape of a chair leg against the floor jolted Eren, even through his daze. “But Eren, I want you to really _feel_ what you’ve let yourself in for. Because I don’t think you understand it.”

This was crazy. Was this really what he’d wanted? _Yours_ , he’d said, but this—he could feel the denial rising, rage, furious rejection, so familiar, the animal roaring, clawing at its cage, at the walls that held it in. His fists clenched on the collar—

 _Soft._

Startled, he looked more closely. The collar had been lined with fleece, dyed black to match the leather, and as he turned it in his hands, he saw how the edges had all been meticulously finished, leaving nothing to fray and chafe. Not some dog’s collar, then. 

_This is...._

Trembling a little, he brushed his thumb across the fleece again.

_So soft...._

He closed his eyes. And something like that shouldn’t even matter, should count for nothing, but—

Somehow that rising pressure had inverted itself, become the plummeting fall, familiar too, if much less so than the lifelong habits of anger and resistance. He’d never accepted the prison of the walls, no matter how comfortable it was, but this—it was entirely different, wasn’t it?

Levi was—

Eren drew a deep breath, exhaled it shakily, then brought the collar up and closed it around his throat.

It was hard to fasten the buckle with nervous fingers, especially since he couldn’t see what he was doing. It wasn’t until he was finished that he realized Levi had risen and approached him. Instinctively he straightened his spine, lifted his head and stared into the distance as if presenting for inspection, acutely aware of the close-fitting band around his neck, especially when he swallowed. Stepping nearer— _so near_ —Levi slipped two fingers under the collar, testing to make sure it wasn’t too tight, Eren realized, and he hadn’t thought he could fall any deeper, dissolve any further, but here he was melting completely under that gentle, considering touch. He could fall on his knees for this man, he knew it without a doubt, had known it, could surrender without question if Levi asked it, and just like with maneuver gear, falling felt so very much like flight.

Levi hooked his fingers in the collar and pulled Eren’s head down, so their faces were close together. “Shit today?” he demanded.

Eren blinked. “Uh...yes?”

Levi’s gaze, locked on his, never softened. If anything, it got more intense. “ _Bathed?_ ”

“Yes!” As if he’d ever _dare_ go to Levi unwashed. Narrow-eyed, Levi scrutinized his face, as if judging his truthfulness, then released him abruptly.

“Hmph.” With a light slap to Eren’s upper arm, he turned away. “Then get naked.”

Grabbing the hem of his shirt, Eren stripped it off over his head, his face flaming. Levi was certainly—Levi. He couldn’t resist a smile, though. No matter how disconcerting the man’s bluntness was, he wouldn’t have him any other way.

Glancing up as his hands went to the fastenings of his pants, he stilled momentarily. Because Levi was in the midst of taking off his shirt too, his back turned to Eren, and _that back_ —those muscles, strong and hard and sculpted—he’d seen it before, of course, but it was still amazing, would never stop being amazing, like one of the natural wonders in Armin’s books. He wanted to run his hands all over it, kiss the length of Levi’s spine, curl his fingers around Levi’s waist.

Levi was fussy about being touched, though. Well. He’d just have to learn how to do it properly.

Hastily Eren kicked off his shoes, slithered out of the rest of his clothes, managing not to tangle himself in his pants and fall over despite the fact that he kept sneaking glances at Levi, who was undressing much more slowly, folding everything as he took it off. Fleetingly Eren wondered if he should do the same, but he was too wound up and excited to settle himself to the task, and instead he stealthily tossed his clothes into a corner away from the bed, where hopefully they wouldn’t offend Levi. He wasn’t quite sure what to do after that; somewhat self-consciously, he decided to just go ahead and get on the bed. 

At the first creak of the frame, Levi tilted his head toward the sound. “Top covers off,” he said. “Just leave the sheets.”

That made sense—sheets were easier to wash—but Eren sort of wished they’d taken care of it before he was naked and well on the way to a raging boner. He just felt awkward and unbelievably exposed like this. He stripped the covers quickly, then got onto the bed again, curling up on his side, propped up on one elbow, and just as he finished settling himself and looked up, Levi was laying the last of his clothing aside, turning—

And stopped there, just looking at him.

Oh. Levi, _naked._ Naked and perfect to the very last inch of him, sleek, scarred skin, ripples of muscle, that cock ( _that cock_ , and they were...and he was going to...), and eyeing Eren not like _that shitty brat_ or even like one of my soldiers but like...he didn’t even know. No one had ever looked at him like that, like fire creeping along a log, enfolding it, like a physical touch heating his skin, like the steel of Levi’s eyes could slide into him and fold him back, open him up, leaving him to be devoured. Eaten. Taken. _Oh._ He _wanted_ suddenly, wanted Levi on him, in him, anything, so much that his whole body seemed to pulse with that ache.

And it was all right to look back, wasn’t it? Not that he could help himself. He could feel how huge his eyes had gotten, staring at Levi. The line of Levi’s mouth tightened, something like one of those rare almost-smiles, but still with that predatory edge. And Levi started walking toward him.

_Ah—_

Levi sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning over him, saying nothing, just continuing to let his gaze trail over Eren’s body. He was so close, breathlessly close, and yet not touching at all. Eren’s fingers scrabbled tensely against the sheets before he forced them still. Levi’s eyes traveled up to Eren’s face, unhurried as a cat stretching, dark as a storm when they finally looked into his own.

Lifting his hand, Levi ran his knuckles slowly down Eren’s chest, then pressed his palm to Eren’s shoulder, indicating for him to roll onto his back. Eren obeyed that silent direction—mostly, flattened his shoulders to the mattress but only half twisted his hips, bent knees parting as he splayed his legs, and he didn’t think until after he’d done it how—how _slutty_ it must look, opening himself up like that, displaying himself to Levi. And Levi was certainly looking. Eren’s dick throbbed at the incendiary heat in his gaze.

Levi ran his hand down Eren’s stomach, rubbed his thumb over the slit of Eren’s dick, and Eren jumped, squirming at the sudden, stinging jolt of sensation. “You look like a puppy begging to have its belly scratched,” Levi said, his voice dry, faintly mocking. “Is that what you are?”

“No.” The answer fell from him instantly, and only after he’d spoken did he wonder if he was supposed to be. He tensed, defiance bristling in him again, but Levi seemed satisfied.

“Good.” Reaching up, Levi traced a finger along the bottom edge of the collar, barely brushing Eren’s skin. “Children and dogs trust without questioning. I watched you think about it,” his gaze flicked from Eren’s throat back up to his eyes, “struggle, and then decide. Wasn’t easy, was it?”

“No,” Eren said again, softer this time. “Not at first. But after I decided... _then_ it was easy.” He knew it was right. All of this was right. He curled his own fingers around the collar. “This is fine. It feels like...like a _gift._ ” Not a punishment. Or a humiliation. Instead, a kind of liberating grace. “Because it means that, now that I’ve chosen it, you’re all right with me being yours too. Right?” Scanning Levi’s face, he wet his lips a little nervously, then murmured, “Thank you.”

“Hmph.” Levi’s expression went guarded, but only for a moment. Then his lips curved into a sly half smile. “I will also say that I wanted to see you in that collar.” The instant’s veiled warmth in his gaze rekindled into something hotter, more intense as he stared at Eren’s neck, and Eren wondered what he must look like to Levi that it stirred such obvious hunger. He couldn’t help flushing. Levi _hmmed_ , then hitched closer and leaned way across Eren’s body, actually lying crosswise on top of him as he reached for the nightstand on the other side of the bed—skin to skin, the warmth of Levi’s body pressed against his, Levi’s weight, the tension of his muscles in full-length stretch and the perfect unself-conscious ease of the movement. Levi dragged the drawer open, something rattled inside, and Eren glanced over to see Levi pull out a length of lightweight chain. He shook it out, about a meter and a half or so of it, a leather loop on one end and on the other a clip...a leash, Eren realized. Still draped over Eren’s torso, Levi held the leash up by the clip and raised an eyebrow at him.

Eren swallowed briefly, then tilted his head back, arched his neck. Eyes closed, he felt Levi’s weight lift up, drawing back, felt the minute shift of the collar, heard the soft click as the leash attached. There. Done. Easy. He opened his eyes again, gazed up into Levi’s face. The slack was taken up, the slightest tug on his neck, and he moved with it, raised himself up to meet Levi’s mouth with his own.

Soft, _sweet_ , shivering him to his toes but leaving him wanting, like a starving man given just the smallest taste of food. Levi pulled back, not far, and said, in that quiet, even, but absolutely no bullshit authoritative tone that went right through Eren like light through glass, “If you’re old enough not to be treated like a child, then I’m not going to treat you like a child. So if something’s too much, you need to call a stop. If you like something, let me know. If you don’t like something, tell me. Don’t assume that I know everything. Understand?”

“Yes.” It didn’t matter, though. Nothing would be too much if it came from Levi. Who was everything he wanted, everything he had ever wanted. “Can I touch you?”

“You want to?” The response was bland, almost indifferent, but Eren thought there was teasing in it too. He licked his lips again.

“Yes.” 

Levi gave a low _hn_ of acquiescence, and Eren lay back, reached up to rest his hands on Levi’s shoulders, the leash going loose as Levi let him move, falling to pool on his chest in a rattling hiss of metal, a startling, not unpleasant chill. Levi wrapped the loose chain a couple of times around his palm, taking up some of that slack again, then tugged sideways. Eren turned his head, obedient to that pull. He closed his eyes as Levi descended onto his neck with tongue, teeth, fierce, sucking kisses, _yes_ , trying to concentrate equally on those bolts of dizzyingly intense sensation and the feel of Levi’s muscles shifting under his hands. He felt like he was drunk already, lost in excitement and ecstasy, even before Levi straddled his leg, slid against his erection—a gasp escaped him, and then he couldn’t stop, a moan, a catch in his throat, his breath coming faster, his hips pressing up desperately toward Levi’s. His hands skimmed down over Levi’s chest, the impulse too urgent to linger the way a part of him wanted to, slid around to Levi’s back, then lower, to his hips and—ah, right, no. He settled them up around Levi’s waist, fingertips pressing into Levi’s back, urging him with little tugs to keep moving. And Levi did, he did, even as his hand cupped Eren’s face—the clink of the loosening chain, the links of metal hard and cool against his cheek—turned it back toward Levi’s, Levi’s mouth coming down on his, powerful, ungentle kisses now, more of what he craved, the force and passion of the man, the intimacy of opening to him, of being opened, breath and tongue and wet heat mingling. Eren whimpered into Levi’s mouth, kissed back with everything he had, his leg sliding up along Levi’s involuntarily, hooking over it, his heel catching against Levi’s calf. Levi made a guttural sound—not displeased—and bucked more emphatically against Eren. He ran his hand up into Eren’s hair, pulled Eren’s head back, his mouth leaving Eren’s with a low sucking sound, a painful disappointment, at least until he went back to assaulting Eren’s throat, licking up the underside of his chin, pulling the collar down with one finger—soft slide of fleece against skin—to nip and tongue where it had been covering. The kissing was the best, Eren thought, but this, this was good too, _so_ good, every lick and bite a searing burn of pleasure, one tumbling over and merging into the next. He barely even noticed the small prickling stings where the chain was catching in his hair; it was just one more thread of sensation, all tangled up with Levi’s kisses and teeth on his neck, his shoulder, Levi’s heat under his hands, the dizzying roll of Levi’s hips as Levi rocked into him and the answering, aching pulse in his groin, seeming to throb harder by the second. 

“Levi,” he panted, “ _Levi—_ ” _more, more!_ , but he couldn’t seem to get the word out, could only groan when Levi instead slowed, then stopped, lifting his head. Levi’s eyes stared down at him, sharp and feral, pupils wide as a hunting cat’s; his mouth was reddened—from the kissing, Eren realized, from kissing _him_ , and the thrill was like a ball of lightning in his stomach. His hand came up before he could think, fingers and then thumb brushing Levi’s lips, marveling at their flushed color, their softness. Sitting up, Levi caught Eren’s hand and pulled Eren’s fingers back to his mouth; he kissed their tips, ran his tongue swirling all around them, and Eren whined at the sight, wriggled, like a dog again, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“So impatient,” Levi murmured, the words resonating against Eren’s palm. His eyes glittered. “We’ve hardly even gotten started.” That thought made Eren want to explode; he already felt as though he almost couldn’t stand it. Releasing his hand, Levi leaned forward over him, giving Eren a really close-up look at his chest—he reached up, unable to resist, cupped his hand against it ( _sleek, firm swell of muscle, so strong, that amazing strength, covering him_ ), could feel the head of Levi’s hard cock slide damply along his stomach ( _wanting him, Levi wanted him, oh_...). The chain’s rattle startled him, and he craned his neck around to see Levi threading it around one of the headboard’s slats. Levi drew it taut again, and he was caught like that, his head twisted up and to one side. Levi’s breath was on the side of his face; Levi’s tongue snaked slowly along the inner curves of his ear, wet, warm, maddening, then flicked at his earlobe. “Slow. Down.”

“ _Nngh!_ ” He couldn’t see what Levi was doing as the other shifted backward, could only feel Levi’s hair feather light against his neck, then Levi’s mouth on his collarbones, his chest, the shockingly sensitive peaks of his nipples, as it traveled a meandering path downward, on his stomach, Levi’s tongue finally lapping delicately into his navel. He writhed at that, arched, tilting his head back farther—felt the collar slip upward, coming to rest under his jaw. It was a moment’s distraction, any fleeting concern vanishing when Levi’s hand slid under him and gripped his ass. _Hard._ He ground down into that grasp, bent his leg so he could dig his heel into the mattress and get leverage to push even harder, and Levi was kneading him, pulling him closer, Levi was licking a long trail down his thigh. Releasing his ass, Levi curled that hand around his dick at last, loosely, unhurriedly, _teasingly_ , and he was losing his mind, every touch that he couldn’t see a new startlement dissolving into pleasure—nowhere near enough for him to come and that was driving him crazy, but he was flying apart anyway, into too many pieces to count, bright spangles bursting around the darkening edges of his vision and it was suddenly so hard catch his breath—

“Shit! _Eren!_ ” Levi’s voice cracked with tension, something like—was that actually panic?—and the pressure let up abruptly. Eren gasped, choked as air flooded into him. Metal clattered against wood as Levi lunged forward and whipped the leash loose from the headboard; the end of it thumped against Eren’s chest as it fell. Slumping forward, Levi bowed his head and breathed out, scarcely audible, “Damn it. _Stupid_.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine!” The way he rasped the words out didn’t make him sound fine, Eren realized, and as Levi started to pull back he surged up, caught Levi by the shoulders and kissed him desperately. He was doing it all wrong, he knew, too rough, too messy and clumsy—he tried to gentle it as much as he could when it was a frantic plea, _don’t stop, don’t, don’t make me go_. Levi tensed, startled or about to reject him, he wasn’t quite sure, and he crossed his arms behind the back of Levi’s neck, cupped his hands behind Levi’s head, careful, not gripping, only—embracing. Holding. _Stay_. “Just. Just touch me,” he mumbled, a breath away from Levi’s mouth, the words escaping in bursts as he kissed him, kissed him again, again, again, stumbling over his lips, his face. “Keep touching me, keep, keep going. I’m all right, I’m _fine_.”

“ _Crazy_ is what you are,” Levi managed to get out at last, a low, aggravated mutter. “No fucking sense of self-preservation.” After a moment, though, a huff of air touched Eren’s face, a sigh, and then Levi was kissing him back, answering his urgency with controlled, steadying calm, and he almost sobbed with relief. They rocked together like that until the urge to clutch had left him and his heart had stopped slamming in his chest. But he still _wanted_ ; he was so aroused that all he could think of was the near anguish, the heat burning in him, the promise and hope of more. Breaking the kiss at last, he stretched against Levi, hitched up into him, tossing his head back with a low, helpless groan.

Levi rumbled against him. At some point the man’s arm had slid around Eren; now he dipped Eren back to lie flat on the bed again, his other hand resting on Eren’s thigh, and Eren sank down, more than willing. Levi stared into Eren’s face, briefly inscrutable, and then there was that fleeting hint of a smile again, both knowing and— _hungry_. It made something in Eren’s stomach both shiver and clench. “Want to keep going, do you?” Eren nodded vigorously, swallowing. Levi’s hand shifted to stroke his dick, still that light, almost torturous touch, fingering him from root to tip, then back down to fondle his balls. _Oh. So good._ “Want me to touch you?” Those caressing fingers circled over his hole, pressed gently against it. “Where? Even here?”

“Yes!” Eren gasped. _Yes yes yes_. His legs trembled, caught between the urge to clamp shut on Levi, to hold him there so that he wouldn’t stop what he was doing, and to open wider, letting him get to...everything. With an effort, he relaxed, made himself spread for Levi, squirming a little to adjust his position, pushing himself up on his elbows at last, so he could sort of see what was happening, even though the thought of watching made him blush. But Levi had taken his hand away, and instead of slipping it back between Eren’s legs, he was reaching for Eren’s neck. “Uh—”

“This is worrying me too much,” Levi said, unclipping the leash. “Stupid fucking gross way to die, getting strangled during sex.” 

_Could_ he even die by choking, Eren wondered, given his ability to heal? Or by drowning? He’d never thought about it before. He was distracted from the idea by a sudden lick of sensation: the undone chain sliding across his chest, catching for an instant on one still-peaked nipple. He must have made some sound, because Levi looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and then deliberately dragged it across him again, link after link snagging and slipping, sending tiny, stuttering bolts of pleasure lancing through him. He clawed his fingers into the sheets, bit his lip on a strangled “ _nnff!_ ” And it wasn’t just the physical feeling, but there was something else too—by all rights he should hate even the suggestion of chains, but this was completely different from the heavy prison manacles and somehow weirdly, stupidly sexy, especially when Levi stretched the leash taut across his body and drew it downward, bending to lick his nipple just after the chain had passed over it. Metal and pressure and the snap of sensation and then the wet heaven of Levi’s mouth—he let his head fall back with a sharp gasp.

“Kinky fucker, aren’t you.” Levi loosened and then flicked the leash so it slithered on Eren’s chest in undulating curves, like a snake. He glanced up sidelong through his hair, and Eren would swear that was a grin, although probably anyone else would say he was imagining things. “Not gonna use this on your dick, though. If anything went wrong, it’d probably turn purple and fall off before you even realized there was an issue.” 

Eren sort of thought he’d notice a thing like that, but before he could exercise his sarcasm Levi had rolled off him to sit on the edge of the bed. Which meant a distinct lack of physical contact, and _that_ was extremely annoying, but he could at least look at Levi’s back again. And his butt, which was... _yes_. 

Dropping the leash on the floor, Levi leaned forward after something on the nightstand, and Eren wondered what on earth he was going to pull out now. The “what” was something wrapped up in one of the washcloths, which turned out to be a small, opaque bottle. Levi tipped a few drops from it onto his fingers, and after a moment of consideration must have found the whatever it was acceptable because he turned back around, making an imperious gesture at Eren. “Towel. Under your ass,” he said, and Eren flailed around until he’d gotten hold of one of the towels on the chair, spread it out, and resituated himself. And then Levi was kneeling above him, and Eren’s throat went dry with a sudden fearful anticipation as Levi’s eyes flicked down to his groin and then back up. His gaze lingering on Eren’s face, Levi tilted the bottle, and a stream of warm liquid drizzled over Eren’s dick. He scrunched up his face with the surprise of it, then inhaled sharply, eyes opening wide again as Levi’s hand closed on him, began rubbing, up and down and then around, a slow, sensual glide, spreading the, the—it was oil, he realized—all along him, everywhere. He could smell it, a faint, musky fragrance that he couldn’t identify.

“Not too warm?” Levi murmured, and Eren shook his head, dazed.

“N-No. It feels....”

“Good?” The rough thrum of mingled amusement and desire in Levi’s voice was almost better than the feel of Levi’s hand fondling him, caressing him so thoroughly and intimately. Almost. And then that hand tightened, began to move with sudden purpose, pumping him in firm, abrupt strokes, _so tight, so hot, so slick_ , he’d never felt anything so utterly and incredibly _amazing_ , and he was making thin, high-pitched noises that he fervently hoped Levi would interpret as _yes, yes, it’s good!_ , because there were absolutely no words when Levi was touching him like that. He had been waiting so long—forever, days, hours, even these last deliriously drawn-out minutes, so much indescribable pleasure and yet still no release—and the surge was building desperately fast, a rush as sweeping and inexorable and overwhelming as the oil-smoothed movement of Levi’s fingers. He was going to, to—and he let out a half scream of frustration when Levi’s hand clamped down on the base of his dick, and everything stopped short, leaving all his muscles clenched and trembling, the blood pounding furiously beneath his skin. Biting out a curse, he tried to twist against that grip, but Levi’s grasp was like iron, and he had to stop, panting, before he hurt himself.

“Close, weren’t you? You’d’ve come in another second or two.” Levi sounded infuriatingly pleased with himself, and Eren didn’t think he’d ever been so aggravated with the man. Still holding Eren’s dick, thumb pressing mercilessly against the underside, Levi leaned forward, completely unphased by Eren’s tight-lipped glower. “So tell me, Eren—do you want to come now, like this?” His face was composed, if somewhat flushed, but deep in his half-hooded eyes a fire burned. He shifted his grip just enough to press his knuckles against Eren’s balls, roll against them, a hint of menace, or of challenge. “Or with me fucking you?”

“...uh?” He didn’t know; his thoughts felt like the aftermath of some disastrous wagon accident, things spilled incoherently everywhere. His dick was saying _now now now_ , of course, but there had been that leap at the last bit, the hot, shuddering roil in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Levi—Levi inside him—fucking him—fucking him until they _both_ came—

What would it be like? Different? Better?

Levi’s body flush against him, touching him all over, everywhere, inside and out....

Eren licked his lips, cleared his throat, but the words still came out wrecked. “W-With you.” He caught the flicker as Levi’s expression shifted, and said, still low and trembling, but more emphatically. “I want it with...with _you_. F-Fucking me.”

Levi let out a breath, as though he’d been holding it. His grip loosened further, his thumb brushing Eren’s dick, the touch too light to give Eren anything but a fluttery feeling at the...the tenderness of the gesture, and for an instant he felt like he could dissolve into the sensation, the emotion, melt like sugar—only an instant, before his body’s intense and very singular focus dragged him back. “You might lose your hard-on,” Levi was saying, calmly factual, as if remarking that it might rain later on. Actually, with quite a lot more calm than that, since Levi profoundly disliked rain. “It happens. Just so you know.” His mouth quirked again, wry and knowing, and all Eren wanted to do—besides come—was kiss it, kiss it again and again, licking deep, devouring it all until Levi was as gone as he was and there was no more slightly sardonic distance, only fire, the heat of Levi’s breath in his mouth, of fevered skin against skin. “But considering we have plenty of time to mess around, somehow we’ll get you off. All right?”

“Y-Yes. Just—” Eren squirmed urgently, gasped as his dick shifted against Levi’s fingers, and his hips bucked up almost of their own volition, seeking more, despite the choice he’d just made. Throwing his head back, he bit his lip, trying not to explode with raw need.

Levi snorted, and then, with no more comment, more oil spilled over him, flowing around the root of his dick and down onto his balls. He wondered—but then Levi’s fingers, those wonderful, cruel, gentle fingers, curled around them, started rolling, massaging, and he actually, literally squeaked, then collapsed with a moan. His arms gave out, and he flopped flat on his back, stared up at the ceiling as Levi did... _oh_...and, and... _that_. Levi’s fingertips pressed firmly just behind his balls, began stroking, and how had he not ever known before Levi came along that touching there could feel so good? He’d thought he had a pretty decent handle on what to do with himself, but there was so much more. Like those oil-slicked fingers brushing over his hole, circling wide around it, and then trailing over it once more, playing with it, and he snapped his arms up, scrabbled briefly at the headboard, then dropped his hands to clutch at the underside of the pillow beneath his head. Being fingered like that—it made him feel frighteningly vulnerable at the same time as it sent tiny sparking shivers of pleasure through him, made his limbs tremble, hot and then cold. He didn’t know what to think about it, but Levi, Levi was going to...and....

Levi glanced at him, then elbowed aside the knee he’d jerked up, nudging it out and down, not ungently, splaying his legs wide again. Bending forward, Levi kissed the top of his inner thigh, then the crease where his leg met his body, slow, lingering mouthings, worked gradually up toward his hip, while just one finger rubbed at him, more methodically now, more firmly, pressing against him, almost in and then back out, over and over, until he was breathing to that rhythm, still quivering but not flinching at every inward movement; not really. At last Levi sat back, and there was the faint glug of more liquid. He could feel Levi’s fingers dripping, the oil running down the crack of his ass when Levi touched him again. No wonder Levi had wanted towels—he was already a mess, surely, and wasn’t it enough _yet_ , but—“Easy,” Levi was murmuring, and then that one finger was pushing into him, slow but steady. It burned a little, even with the oil, stretched him—felt _weird_ , totally foreign, invasive, and a startled breath hiccupped out of him. “Easy,” Levi said again, one hand resting on his hip while the other bore down, an insistent, unrelenting pressure, until that finger was seated inside him—all the way in, he thought, thought of Levi’s long, graceful fingers that didn’t seem, just from looking at them, as though they ought to take up nearly so much space. He tried to imagine what Levi’s wide cock would feel like up in there, and the thought left him more than a little terrorized.

“Good,” Levi said, and, “That’s one finger,” as if he didn’t _know_. It eased back, withdrawing most of the way, a twinge of emptiness, relief mixed with an odd sense of loss, then slid in again. Levi’s other hand had shifted to Eren’s thigh and rested there, still except for an occasional back-and-forth stroke of his thumb, while his finger worked in and out, moving a little bit faster, and once again Eren found himself gradually falling into that rhythm, the tension in him easing, the strangeness and the burn both subsiding. His hips rocked into the press of that finger, the sensation almost pleasurable now, and then it was gone—he sucked in a breath of surprise, maybe protest, but before he could say anything all the air hissed out of him again. 

_Two_ fingers. He arched, a growly whimper escaping him as his body tensed, _oh, oh, oh_ , that was too much. “Relax,” Levi was saying. “Breathe. You’re doing fine.” He didn’t feel like he was doing fine at all, and as he managed a strangled, shuddering inhalation, he realized with dismay that he’d gone soft.

“ _Shit!_ ”

‘You’re fine,” Levi said again. “I told you something like this might happen, didn’t I? Just _relax_. It gets better, trust me.” Shifting forward, Levi bent low over him, breath and then lips ghosting over his neck. “Hold onto me if you need to,” he murmured. “Bite or claw, if that helps.” Eren’s hands flew up to clamp onto Levi’s shoulders, and Levi let out a low chuff that might have been amusement or resignation. “You can manage to bite your own hands bloody for one of Hange’s experiments. This isn’t _that_ bad, is it?”

It wasn’t— _bad_ , not in the sense of being painful, certainly nothing like tearing at his flesh with his teeth. It was just—he didn’t know. He didn’t know, he was overwhelmed; whatever he’d imagined it would be like, it wasn’t this, but Levi’s fingers were moving in him, forward, back, curling inside him, pushing at him until he wanted to scream—and then he _was_ , yelping high and shrill as his body jerked, a flaring white shock ripping through him from where Levi’s fingers were pressed into his insides. It pulsed into nothing, then burst out again as Levi dug in with his fingertips, kneading more firmly in one particular spot, each tiny shift of pressure sending out a new jolt. It felt—

“Feels good?” Levi had pulled back a little, sitting up enough to be able to gaze down into his face, but he couldn’t make himself return that look, not when he was panting for breath, shaking helplessly, the tiny part of him that wasn’t lost in sensation almost too embarrassed to live, and still those fingers just kept working, working, back to sliding in and out, the friction and fullness just _more_ now, like that lightning strike inside him was _more_ , more to _feel_ —and he arched his back again, hands scrabbling spastically at Levi’s shoulders and arms as yet another surge rocked him, as Levi’s fingers crooked inside him, dragging across that place. “Yeah. That’s the bottom’s payoff.” Levi snorted softly. “Consider yourself lucky. Most guys don’t even know what they’re missing out on.”

Eren didn’t know either—what it _was_ , this thing that he wasn’t missing out on—only knew that it was taking him apart, leaving him in pieces in Levi’s hands, and if it stopped—if it stopped, then— He writhed, mortified but needy, so desperately, inexplicably needy, canted his hips up pleadingly as he tried to push himself into Levi’s hand, and he heard Levi exhale, a long, ragged breath.

“Fucking _gorgeous_.” Levi’s voice had dropped even lower than usual, a throaty rumble, night-dark and dangerous. It throbbed through Eren like the pulse beating in his throat, in his chest, in the straining hole being stretched out by Levi’s fingers, in his suddenly and unexpectedly resurgent dick. The sound, he thought, just the _sound_ of that lust-heavy voice might have been all it took to get him hard again. “The way you look right now,” Levi was murmuring, and every word stroked him, an almost physical touch, just like the heat of Levi’s gaze when he finally dared to glance up, so searing that he had to look away quickly. “The sounds you’re making.” Levi’s fingers scissored within him, made him gasp, keening breathlessly, then started plunging faster, more forcefully, sinking deep into him with every stroke. “The way you move.” And he _was_ moving, he couldn’t help it, his body doing what it would, shuddering and jerking, his hips rolling, convulsing with each thrust. Eren closed his eyes, his face burning—every part of him felt like it was burning up. Levi’s fingers pulled out abruptly, leaving him clenching on nothing; he felt them skim some of the excess oil from his thighs, and then—more than two, _three_ , he thought, although he didn’t really know, couldn’t tell, all squeezing in through his entrance together as Levi growled, close to his ear—“ _The way you take me._ ”

 _Oh. Oh._ His body went still, his mind went still; there was only the long stretch, a reluctant but somehow still hungry yielding as Levi pressed into him, a single, slow forward motion, until those fingers were in, all the way in. “Going to take my dick like that,” Levi said, more softly, and Eren shivered, adrift in that fullness. Then Levi’s arm was under his shoulders—he was being hauled upright, pulled close against Levi’s chest, and Eren spasmed as the angle of Levi’s fingers changed. With a choking whimper, he hunched into Levi, buried his face in Levi’s neck, fists knotted in the space between them. “Haa.” Levi’s breath fluttered his hair. “Beautiful.” Levi nuzzled him, butted gently at him until he tilted his head back, then closed his mouth over Eren’s again, kissed him, tongued at him, into him, inside him there too, opening him up from both ends until he thought he’d die from being so totally possessed. 

At last, Levi released his mouth. “No one,” Levi murmured against his forehead, “no one has ever touched you like this before.”

“ _Nnn._ ” Somehow he managed a brief headshake, then caught his breath as Levi’s fingers began to move once more. Levi’s strong arm drew him back in effortlessly, curling him inward until his face was pressed to Levi’s throat again, the scent of the man’s skin like some mesmerizing drug, and then Levi’s mouth was hot against his ear, the low words seeming to vibrate directly into Eren as he spoke.

“This is the part where I say filthy things like, ‘And nobody else ever will. Nobody else can have this; you’re mine, this ass belongs to me—only to me.’ ” His tongue flicked into Eren’s ear, lewdly wet; his fingers thrust faster, faster, grinding up into that place inside until Eren couldn’t think, there was only the fire blazing along all his nerves yet again and Levi’s voice pouring over him, through him, molten as the stones of Armin’s fiery mountain. “ _I’m_ the only one who gets to fuck you like this, fuck you wide open until you’re loose, wrecked, until you’ve fallen apart, fuck you even beyond that. _Just_ me.” Those fingers slowed abruptly, then stilled, leaving him reeling. “But this is reality, so...who the fuck knows,” Levi muttered, barely audible. “I could die tomorrow, and it would all be just so much bullshit.” His arm tightened around Eren—he picked up the pace again, not quite so fast but firmer, each thrust more emphatic. “But I was the first. Nobody else can have that.” And deep, driving in so deep that Eren sobbed with it, his whole body stiffening, straining, impaled, as the words ripped out of Levi, ragged with fierce emotion: “ _I’ll always be the first._ ” 

A long moment, the two of them frozen like that, and then the pressure gradually eased, Levi’s fingers relaxing, drawing back until they were just stroking him, inside, then outside, gently, and Eren sagged, collapsed back down against Levi, boneless and wrung out. He had no idea how it was that he hadn’t come—it felt like he’d come half a dozen times, so how could he still be hard and aching? He drew in a quavering breath.

“Ready?” Levi murmured. Dazed, Eren thought he made some kind of yes-noise, and Levi sighed. “I hope you’re ready. ’Cause I’m dying here.” Gingerly Levi loosened his embrace, as if worried that Eren might fall over. Eren wasn’t entirely sure that he wouldn’t. “On your front,” Levi said, and somehow Eren got himself turned around and down on his stomach, despite his shaking limbs. Levi took the pillow, wrapped another towel around it, then positioned it under Eren’s hips, raising them slightly. Pushing Eren’s legs farther apart, he settled in between them. Eren heard the familiar sound of skin being slicked, and then Levi’s fingers brushed down the sides of his ass crack, reached in between his cheeks and spread them wider. “All right.” A statement not a question, and Eren felt the oiled head of Levi’s cock touch him, settle, and then press in.

It was bad. _Awful._ Even with all the oil, all the working of Levi’s fingers, he was too small; it was way, way too big. It stretched and stretched and _stretched_ him, and as it breached him, shoving inside, he stiffened, hollowed his back in instinctive resistance, his teeth grinding as he stifled a wail.

“Shh. _Shh shh._ ” Levi’s hands had shifted to his hips; now one moved to rest at the base of his spine, rubbing awkwardly. “A little...more.” _Breathe_ , Levi had told him before, _relax_ , and he didn’t know how it would possibly help with this, but he tried, unclenched his teeth and panted open-mouthed, sharp _ah!_ s escaping him. He shifted his hips, made an effort to unlock his muscles, to uncurl his spine. And then it was sliding in, more and more of it, moving in short slips and catches, expanding him impossibly as it sank deeper. He couldn’t, he couldn’t...but he was, and...all his _yes_ had turned to _no_ , but it was too late to stop, and all he could do was endure it. Putting his head down, he stuffed the sheet into his mouth and bit down on it, his jaw tight with a silenced shriek. 

The forward motion stopped. Levi’s hips were flush against him, Levi’s fingers gripping him hard enough to bruise. His face against the mattress, he dragged in a breath through his nose, then another one, his closed eyes burning and wet. And he’d lost his hard-on again, he realized—not a surprise by this point, but he just wanted to scream at his body, _would you make up your mind!_

Wanted to scream at everything: himself, Levi, the searing ache in his ass, the stupidity of thinking that this was what he’d wanted—

Vaguely he became aware that Levi was panting too, short, bitten-off huffs of breath, “ _f-...fff-...,_ ” like he was trying to swear and couldn’t quite get the word out. It almost didn’t sound like Levi, and in spite of himself, Eren twisted his head around enough to look over his shoulder, hurriedly blinking away the trace of tears. Levi was leaning back slightly, his body a shallow arch from where it was pressed against Eren’s. His eyes were closed, his expression tense; he was biting his lip, his face tilted up toward the ceiling. And then, with a sharper exhalation, he looked down, his gaze briefly unfocused, then clearing as it met Eren’s. His eyes widened; his lips moved, almost silently. 

“ _Eren...._ ”

Not the pain, no, but this...to have Levi looking at him like this. Stunned and still and as if nothing else existed in the world. Only their two bodies, joined where Levi was buried inside him. Only Eren lying beneath him, taking him in, taking him all in.

It was so much—Eren had to look away. But the memory of that gaze shone behind his eyelids, coiled and uncoiled in his stomach, its sunlike heat soothing some of the tension and fear.

That part... _that part_ was good.

Slowly Levi straightened, his fingers fanning over Eren’s hips, and Eren inhaled deeply, trying to adjust to the shift of weight. “Still alive down there?” Levi asked, a slightly breathless rasp in his voice.

“U-Uhn-huh.” Eren spat out the damp sheet, and immediately regretted it as Levi pulled out a little and then slid back in. He couldn’t muffle the whining grunt that was forced out of him. Levi made a low answering noise, then rocked his hips again, a longer, more drawn-out movement, emptying him further, filling him back up—a short pause, and then again, the rhythm erratic, a stuttering drag against his insides, as if Levi was struggling to find his pace. Eren squirmed in protest.

“Trying...to go slowly,” Levi muttered.

“F-Fast is fine.” It would be over more quickly that way, he figured.

“ _Nnn_.” Levi bore down, ground against him. “Better—” What was, Eren wondered. “ _Fuck_ —so—” Levi rutted into him again, then froze, hunching over him with a low catch of breath; mumbled something only half audible, perhaps not even meant to be heard at all: “... _could lose myself in you._ ”

 _Ah._ “ _Levi._ ” The name sighed out of him. So much that was beyond him in all of this, but at those words every feeling he had for the man had lit him up inside, glimmering bright and true, like stars. “ _Yes._ ”

Levi hesitated, then leaned farther forward, bent to drape himself over Eren’s back, so heavy, and so warm. He kissed Eren’s spine, pressed his forehead to it, and Eren could feel the sweat that sheened them both. Reaching out, Levi closed his hand over Eren’s where it was knotted in the sheets. “Hang in there,” he murmured. “Trust me a little longer like this.”

“Mm-hmm.” That was fine. He had never not trusted Levi. Lifting his head, Levi kissed Eren’s back again, flicked his tongue over the skin, then withdrew, and as Levi’s hand released his, stroked along his side to settle at his hips again, Eren shifted to touch the collar, to curl his fingers around it, bowed his head and let himself sink down into that surrender.

Levi began to move, still slow, but more controlled, in command of himself again, driving into Eren with deliberate thrusts. This was his captain, _so strong_ , in the powerful grip of his hands, the smoothly driving force of his body, and Eren thought that if he could just endure this, hold himself together and outlast it, maybe it would bring him a little closer to being strong like that too. He concentrated on breathing through each forward surge, on riding out the painful stretchings that just seemed to go on and on, repeating over and over. But somehow....

Somewhere in the midst of all that, things began to change. He didn’t notice exactly when the sensations started to blur into something else, when the discomfort began to transform, only realized confusedly that it was...better. That the pain, if it was even still pain, was lifting him now, not with the sharp-bright adrenaline shock of _yes, fight, live_ but rolling inside him, through him, like clouds building against the sky, their edges shot with light, and he was unfurling, so filled by it, so filled by the force of Levi’s cock, hot and hard and taking him, taking him. Something in him was giving way, overcome and yielding, and as his body softened, released into that stretch, a low _ah_ escaped Levi. “Yes,” he whispered, “good, yes,” the words an encouraging caress. Drawing a deeper breath, Eren rolled his hips back cautiously to meet Levi’s next thrust, and was rewarded again, a hiss of—pleasure, he thought, satisfaction, a wordless eagerness that stirred an echo of excitement in him. And then somehow, before he even realized it was happening, they were moving _together_ , and his heart was beating faster again, because this was new and terrifying and right, so right, this giving and taking, this answering each other, this unison. His mind might never understand it, but somehow his body did, arching as Levi drove into him more urgently, trembling on the knife edge of ecstasy.

Levi shifted their positions slightly, pulling Eren’s hips up and back, slipping a hand underneath him, and he didn’t think he even could, but—there, he was hardening again as Levi groped for and grasped at him, and this time, _please_ , “ _please_ ,” he was gasping, “ _please, yes, yes,_ ” and “ _Levi_ ” as the man stroked him in time with the erratically quickening movements of their hips. And something in the change of position—the angle was different, and—that, that place, Levi’s cock was catching it, shocks of raw feeling so intense he couldn’t think, could only moan, low and broken, as they grew, _grew_ , until he was shaking, crying out, the pleasure shattering him everywhere inside while Levi’s hand didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop jerking and wringing at him, taking him further, further, further—“ _Levi—yes—fuck!_ ”

And Levi stuttered into him, froze for a long moment, long enough for clarity to glimmer through and let Eren realize that Levi was coming in him, shuddering, spurting hot and wet— _into him, inside his ass, coming for him,_ because _of him_ —and with that, and the sound of Levi’s desperate, wrecked gasp, and the almost frantic slidings along his dick as Levi’s hand began to pump him once more, that was it, once, twice, and he was done, coming _finally_ , a last blinding, pulsing peak of _oh fuck so good_ as all the gathered tension surged and burst, flooding through him and out until he was left drained, slack, exhausted, all his muscles quivering, his whole body still thrumming with the aftermath of that unbelievable release, like a now-quiet rain after the storm had broken. Pressing his face into the sweat-dampened sheets, he moaned one last time. 

“ _L-Levi...._ ”

He ached when Levi pulled out of him at last, the sting sharp enough that when he squeezed his eyes shut some moisture escaped them. His ass honestly still felt pretty violated. But....

 _No regrets._ None whatsoever.

He felt the mattress shift as Levi rolled away from him, dropping heavily to lie stretched out by his side. Stealthily Eren turned his head to look. Levi was lying lower down on the bed, so it was like gazing down their difference in height, except maybe a little more distance. Levi’s fingers were tangled in his hair, the heels of his palms pressing against his face, his stomach (... _those abs_...) rising and falling as he drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then another, and exhausted though he was, something in Eren thrilled to the thought that he had undone his captain. If he hadn’t just been epically fucked, it might have turned him on something fierce; instead it was a kind of glow, warm and shivery at the same time, a quiet twinge deep inside his chest.

With long, explosive exhalation, Levi dropped his hands at last, then craned his head up and around to look at Eren. Eren returned that stare, vaguely amazed at his own calm. It felt like he was floating, drifting in a pleasant haze. Reaching up, Levi grazed the back of one finger along Eren’s cheek, just below his eye, and Eren could feel the grittiness of salt from where his tears had mostly dried. 

“Might’ve been nicer if your first time was with someone more gentle,” Levi murmured.

Eren blinked in puzzlement. “I think,” he said at last, “that you’re gentler than you think you are.”

It was hard to read Levi’s expression when it was mostly upside down, but the slant of his mouth looked...conflicted. Or maybe sad. His hand lingered a moment more, then withdrew. As Levi sat up, Eren closed his eyes, turning his face against the bed again. He heard the swish of water, the sound of wrung out drops falling and splashing, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what Levi was doing. The liquid sloshed again, and then Levi said, ‘The water’s gotten cold. Sorry,” just before a cool, damp cloth dabbed up the length of Eren’s ass crack. He started at the first touch, only an instant’s surprise—the water wasn’t that cold, and the press of the cloth was careful, slow—then relaxed into it. It was kind of embarrassing, as if he was helpless, but more and more he was realizing that Levi secretly liked taking care of people, that these little gestures were the way he showed his real feelings.

The cloth was taken away. “Hmm. No steam,” Levi reported, deadpan, and Eren snorted an involuntary laugh into the sheets.

Little things like that, too.

When Levi urged him to turn over, though, he sat up, put his own hand on the cloth, because there were limits, honestly, and he seriously could clean himself. Levi glanced up at him, and he hesitated, then gave in to the impulse, bent forward, and Levi tilted his head to accept Eren’s quick kiss. As he drew back, lightheaded at his own daring, Levi ran a finger underneath the collar. “You can keep this here,” he said, and with an inward sigh, Eren acknowledged that things were over for the night.

But, he thought with a spark of anticipation, not for the future.

He wiped himself down, stood up and— _owww_ —his legs almost buckled. Hobbling to the corner, he reclaimed his clothes and got dressed, only resorting to the wall’s support a couple of times. He was hesitating, trying to figure out how to leave—did he just say good night and excuse himself, or should he wait for Levi to dismiss him—when Levi let out a low _tch_ of annoyance. “Eren. Get over here.”

Levi had pulled on a pair of loose black sleep pants; they hung low on his hips, and oh, he looked good in them, although to be fair he looked good in anything. Or nothing. He was scowling as Eren approached. He reached up for Eren’s throat, and Eren realized with a hot flush of mortification that he’d totally forgotten about the collar, and he could only imagine what would have happened if he’d walked back into the bunkroom like that. Who knew that sex could make him so dumb?

“You’re a mess,” Levi muttered, echoing Eren’s thoughts as his fingers worked the buckle. The words weren’t unkind, though, and the hint of a smirk bent Levi’s lips as he added, “But at least with your healing power you should be walking straight by the morning.” The collar slid away; Levi studied his neck for a moment, then tugged at Eren’s shirt with another frown. “For fuck’s sake, though, next time don’t just crumple your clothes up in a ball. You look like someone rolled you in an alley.”

“Instead of a bed?” Levi looked at him sharply, and Eren quailed, regretting his smartass mouth. Then Levi pressed his palm against Eren’s forehead, the touch warm, equal parts warning and caress.

“Go to sleep, you little shit.”

Eren’s body limped, but his heart was floating as he climbed to the third floor where the squad members’ bedrooms were. When he entered the boy’s bunkroom, Jean and Connie were playing cards, while Armin was writing something in a little notebook. “Hey, where were you?” Connie asked, only half paying attention as he frowned at his hand.

“What happened?” Of course Armin would notice that he was looking a bit disheveled, and Eren cleared his throat, trying to compose himself.

“I was with the captain. Extra self-defense lessons. In case I get kidnapped again. Uh, for real this time,” he added defensively, as Jean rolled his eyes and muttered something about _who was it who actually got kidnapped, asshole._

Ignoring Jean, Eren rolled into his bunk fully clothed and pulled the pillow over his head.

Safe within that concealment, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this part better than the previous one, even if the whole collar thing is kind of, oh my god, what was I thinking, I don't even know. I think it's because Eren is way less ambivalent. And so enthusiastic. ^_^
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
